


Work of Heart

by WickedWriter



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Library, Aziraphale is Not, Beta Read - We Ascend Like Aziraphale, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), F/M, Fluff, Grumpy Librarian Aziraphale, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Volunteer Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:22:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WickedWriter/pseuds/WickedWriter
Summary: Aziraphale loved his volunteer duties at the library, he was able to surround himself with books and find a comfortable routine. He even made friends with the people who worked there, which helped to fight off the loneliness that settled into his life.All due to one change in his usual routine, Aziraphale met Crowley‒ a fellow volunteer‒ who was almost the opposite of him in every way. Crowley was flashy and boisterous, and the children who attended his reading circle absolutely adored him. Although Aziraphale really wished he’d pick something other than horror stories to read to them.
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Sergeant Shadwell/Madame Tracy (Good Omens)
Comments: 170
Kudos: 257





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thank you to the most wonderful Beta in the world, [meinposhbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard). This story would not exist without your help, encouragement, and beta skills. Thank you for everything! EDIT: Thank you for the wonderful banner for this fic! I love it so much.
> 
> After months of working on this, I am excited to share this story with everyone. Idea came from a tumblr prompt which I somehow cannot find again (that's what I get for hardly using that site). As soon as I can find it I'll make sure to link it here. 
> 
> EDIT: [Found the Post!](https://sneckerdoodle.tumblr.com/post/186173745682/good-omens-aus-i-need-like-oxygen-art-au)
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

It all began with a reading circle.

When Aziraphale had started volunteering at the library a few blocks away from his bookshop, one of the first things he insisted on was something where parents could bring in their children and have them fall in love with reading. He worked to organize a couple of people to volunteer, just a few regulars who would come into his shop, and it slowly became more popular. Now there was a volunteer for each day of the week to come in and read. Not only did this encourage the kids to enjoy books, but it also provided a relief for parents who just needed something to keep their kids entertained.

Eventually, he began to organize more events such as book clubs, writing seminars, and a couple of study classes for various standardized tests.

After a few months, and the increase in participation from the community, the library was able to afford to hire a full time employee. Aziraphale did entertain the idea of applying himself, but he didn’t want to give up time at his bookshop. 

Eventually, they hired Anathema. She was an American university student who came to England to study abroad. Once the exchange program ended, she stayed and managed to finish her degree. At first, her job was to focus on the reference desk, but soon enough she organized more events aimed at a younger generation. She even hosted a fundraiser banquet to update the ancient computers which allowed for even more events for the young. Within two years, the library was a regular hotspot of activity thanks to the tag team effort, which surprised everyone since this branch was on the brink of closing before Aziraphale arrived.

Right now, parents were ushering small children towards the back room for the daily story time.

Today’s reading was by far the most crowded that Aziraphale has ever seen. The room was already packed with children occupying every bean bag available while others sat on the colorful carpeted floor and others still chose to sit in their mothers or fathers’ lap. Parents lined the back wall of the room, spilling into the entryway as they waited for the volunteer to arrive. Anathema strode up beside him and helped to scan the books.

“I didn’t know that a children’s reading circle could be so popular,” Aziraphale remarked offhandedly.

“Oh, this one is.” Anathema smirked. “The kids absolutely love him.” 

“Well, as long as they are enjoying the stories, I’m happy.” 

He placed his glasses on the counter and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to ease away the headache. He’d been having trouble sleeping as of late, so to try and combat that he’d usually make a cup of tea and sit in the old chair in the back of his bookshop, getting lost in a book. He would wake up later, usually sore and groggy, before shuffling upstairs and trying to finish the night with some actual sleep. More often than not, that would prove to be futile and he would hardly get more than a short and unpleasant nap.

“Are they all this full?” Aziraphale asked. He couldn't help but be impressed with the sheer volume of people trying to fill the small space

“Hell no,” Anathema laughed. “The rest will have maybe half, usually less. This guy has been popular for months now. Which reminds me, we should probably take some of the extra chairs at the tables and move into the room. Want to help?” 

It only took a handful of trips before most of the parents had a place to sit in the room. Aziraphale paused a moment by the door to try and get a quick head count, the largest he’d seen one of these before was about twenty people which included parents and children. This was easily nearly double. 

“You don’t normally work on Saturdays, do you?” Anathema asked by his side.

“No. I’ve been working Sundays for the last year, but I wanted a change,” Aziraphale said as if it wasn’t important. In truth, he was hoping the change of routine would help with the slight insomnia issue. “The woman who reads on Sundays is very nice. What is this person like?”

Anathema shrugged. “Dunno much. I haven’t really gotten a chance to talk to him. He comes in just before the reading starts, and clears out shortly after it ends. He’s tall, handsome, and isn’t what one would expect from a volunteer to read to children.”

“What does that mean?” 

“Well, let's just say that‒”

“Oh no,” Aziraphale made a face at the mental image. “Is he some sort of gangster? Covered in tattoos, and a leather jacket?”

“No, not‒”

“Wow, he sounds like a jerk.” A third voice spoke behind Aziraphale’s back, prompting Aziraphale to whirl around and come face to face with perfectly styled short red hair and designer sunglasses. “You should probably fire him.”

At first, Aziraphale was merely confused as to why this man was sharing his opinion. Then he saw the book in his hand, something entirely too big to be a children's book, but could be an anthology of short stories, and realised this was probably the person he and Anathema had been speculating about. 

Aziraphale gaped like a fish out of water, especially since his remark wasn’t that far off. The tall, lithe man was clad in black nearly from head to toe, his shirt wasn’t entirely inappropriate but it did dip a bit too low in its v cut, and a small snake tattoo could be seen peeking out by his ear.

“No- I mean, well...” Aziraphale tried to recover, but it seemed that his brain decided to leave him high and dry. The other man just smiled and cocked an eyebrow over his sunglasses. “Apologies, my speculations were entirely inappropriate. I assure you it won’t happen again.” 

“Oh, well I expect not.” The man’s voice had an amusing tone to it. “Do I live up to the fantasy, though?”

“I am sure you are most suitable for the job,” Aziraphale spoke rather quickly hoping this conversation would be over before he ended up staying anything else to offend the man.

“That's not what I mean... wait, suitable?" His tone sounded a little confused. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never _suitable_.”

“I assure you, you are the right choice for the job Mr…” Aziraphale trailed off, realizing he never actually learned the name of the volunteer.

“Crowley.”

“Well, Mr Crowley, I will let you get to your work.” He nodded stiffly before turning on his heel and headed back to the counter, Anathema only a few steps behind. There was work to be done and hopefully this would allow him to forget accidentally insulting a volunteer.

“Well that was weird,” Anathema spoke up. Aziraphale jumped slightly, he had almost forgotten that she was behind him.

“What was?”

“That.” She gestured broadly at the door where they were previously occupied. “He’s been coming here for months and hasn't said a word to anyone. But he talked to you right away.” 

“I’m sure he just overheard our conversation and wanted to squash any rumors that may have been started.” 

Anathema shrugged and went to help the person waiting at the front desk which left Aziraphale alone with the books that needed to be returned to their shelves.

Finished with that, he moved on to the fiction section where the largest amount of titles were waiting to be restocked. His mind drifted to the earlier interaction and wondered why Anathema had thought it to be so odd. Surely he only spoke to Aziraphale because they were in the way of the room, and obviously he must have overheard his rather uncomplimentary hypothetical description and wanted to correct it. 

Although it was a little flattering that apparently Aziraphale had been interesting enough for Mr Crowley to talk to. Even if it was just to show how he wasn’t what Aziraphale was thinking. Still, the fact that he took time to even say anything, made him feel important. 

And, now that he allowed himself to think about it a bit more, he did have a rather nice smile. It was brilliantly charming, soft and inviting, with just a hint of sharpness to it. He wondered briefly if anyone else at the library had seen that smile before.

He was so lost in his thought that he found himself placing works of fiction in the unit right next to the reading room which afforded him the perfect excuse to‒ not really eavesdrop, but, well, to attentively listen in to the reading circle even without being physically present in the room. Or invited.

There was a buzz in the air from the excitement of the story being told. He could only hear bits of pieces of what Mr Crowley was reading, just fragments of sentences or sharp lines of dialogue to bring more authenticity to the characters in the story. And to keep the attention of the little ones. 

The first time that Aziraphale volunteered at the library, he had done the same thing. He picked out what he thought was a rather interesting children's book, and read at the first ever reading circle. Unfortunately, he learned the hard way that children tend to have an attention span worse than a goldfish, and loved asking far too many questions. He barely managed to finish the book before swearing to never go through that again. It was then that he started recruiting volunteers to read, and they had done a much better job than he had. 

Aziraphale moved his cart out of the way and found himself walking into the reading room.

“‘And in the end, the burgesses passed that remarkable law which is told of by traders in Hatheg and discussed by travellers in Nir,’” Crowley spoke in an ominous voice, but the smile on his face made the children giggle. 

Aziraphale’s smile instantly disappeared. He looked around confused, but none of the parents seemed to find this story selection to be odd. There was no way this man was actually allowed to read a lovecraftian story. 

“‘Namely, that in Ulthar no man may kill a cat.’”

The book was closed with a satisfying thud and Crowley looked at the beaming children who huddled around, hanging onto his every word.

“So what is the moral of the story, kids?” One small girl shot her hand up energetically and babbled on about how everyone should be kind to all animals. “I would have went with don’t torture cats or they’ll eat your face. But yours works too.” 

The parents laughed. Aziraphale was horrified. The man said his goodbyes to the kids as they trickled out of the room with their parents. Several ran straight to other parts of the library to make book selections to check out.

In the confusion of everyone leaving, Aziraphale was able to make his way to the front of the room. “Um, excuse me, Mr Crowley.”

“Just Crowley,” he corrected.

“Right.” Aziraphale straightened his jumper. “I, well, I couldn’t help but overhear your reading session, and I wanted-” 

Crowley laughed. “Couldn’t help?” He flashed a brilliant smile and cocked an eyebrow. “No, I am sure you just wanted to see me.”

He tried to look aghast at the accusation, although he would not admit that Crowley was a little bit correct. “I assure you, that was not the case. I did want to talk to you about your choice in literature.” 

“My choice in literature?” He parroted the words back and placed a hand on his chest in mock insult. He held up the book in question with the author's name in large, silver letters on the front. “What is wrong with my choice in literature? The Cats of Ulthar is a classic short story.” 

“Those stories are not appropriate for children,” Aziraphale pleaded.

“They seem to like them just fine.”

I don’t know why the parents haven’t talked to you about this.”

“Some have.” He shrugged. “Most who have an issue don’t come back. They can make their own choices about if they want their kids to stay for what I read. I don’t see what this is an issue.”

“I just think you should rethink your choices. The selection is not appropriate for the age group.”

Crowley just raised an eyebrow in question. “And what would you recommend?”

“Maybe some Dr. Seuss… or maybe that wonderful book about the little rainbow fish.”

“First of all,” Crowley held up a finger, “everyone reads Dr. Seuss, the kids are bored of it. Second of all, that is not how natural selection works.” Aziraphale looked very confused which caused Crowley to continue to speak. “That book is about a genetic mutated anomaly of a fish, who damns his friends by giving them his scales which would have made them more visible to predators. That guy didn’t share with his friends to be nice, he did it so they would get eaten and not him. Really, a bad message if you think about it.”

Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond. That was the strangest argument he’d ever heard for not reading a children’s book, especially one with such a positive message. He couldn’t figure out what type of person would volunteer to read to kids, and yet refused to read books aimed at that age. 

He was such a strange enigma of a man, and yet Aziraphale felt curious as to what led him here. 

“You know,” Crowley smirked, “I’ve never been confronted by a grumpy librarian before.”

That comment snapped Aziraphale out of it. He had half a mind to walk away but instead just crossed his arms and huffed. 

“Don’t worry, I meant that as a compliment.” Crowley chuckled. “Listen um…” He held a hand out as if asking a question.

“Aziraphale.”

“Wow, that's a mouthful.” They walked out of the reading room into the main part of the library where Aziraphale’s cart was waiting with only a handful of books left. “Anyway, I read the stories the kids want to hear. If people don’t like it, then they don’t have to listen.” They both reached the front doors of the library when Aziraphale stopped walking. “I guess I will see you next week, Aziraphale.” His stomach fluttered slightly when he heard his name roll off of Crowley’s tongue. With one last smile thrown his way, Crowley walked out of the library.

It took several minutes for Aziraphale to move, and even longer to realise he lost the argument. He went back to his discarded cart and finished stocking the books a little more irritably than before.

XXXXX

The week passed quickly as Aziraphale worked hard at his bookshop. Although his work usually focused on scaring away customers rather than letting them buy anything. Some people at the library did remark that it was strange that someone who owned a bookshop would also volunteer at the library, but the shop was one of the biggest reasons he would even go to the library. 

Aziraphale’s shop specialized in first editions and rare print books. When he needed to reference a particular book, it was much easier to go to the library and check out a copy of that book. This would ensure his own collection stayed pristine. 

Over the week, his issues with sleep didn’t let up either. He was barely getting five hours of sleep a night and most of it took place in an uncomfortable arm chair in the back of his bookshop. He was spending less and less time in his flat upstairs. 

When Saturday rolled around, Aziraphale found himself back at the library, helping Anathema fix a particularly stubborn computer. Honestly, he had no idea what he was doing. He just let Anathema read instructions that she found on some website while he crouched under, plugging in various wires, thankful that everything was color coded or different shaped since he didn’t understand anything the girl was saying. 

“Ok, then take the VGA cord and connect it to the monitor and then it should be done.” Anathema said triumphantly. Aziraphale grabbed the only cord that was left and looked for the corresponding port. They turned on the power button and nothing happened. “I don’t understand, it should work.”

Aziraphale stood up and looked down at the black screen. “It's a new computer, maybe something's wrong inside?” 

“It could be a loose connection.” A young man who was sitting at the table behind them spoke up. He had a spread of newspapers covering the table.

“What do you mean?” 

“Well,” he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “sometimes when computers are assembled, the cords into the motherboard may not be connected fully. But it is an easy fix.”

“Could you take a look?” Anathema asked.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” He sounded very hesitant. 

“You can’t just throw out a suggestion and not offer to help.” Anathema was a little annoyed. The man reluctantly stood up and got under the table to try and fix the computer. After a few moments the monitor flicked on and Anathema smiled. The happiness, however, only lasted about three seconds when a loud popping noise filled the room. Like a row of dominos, the computers lined up on the table cut out one by one.

The young man crawled back out with a sheepish expression. “I told you that wasn’t a good idea.”

“What did you do?” Anathema panicked over the computers.

“I’m not good with computers.” He adjusted his glasses. “Well, I am in theory. But in reality they tend to die around me.” He looked at the girl who was a mix between angry and disappointed. “I can tell you what to do to fix it, if you want.” 

“Well since I can’t google how to fix this,” Anathema pointed at the row of dead computers, “you can help. Stand right there, don’t touch anything, and tell me what to do.”

“I would need to know a bit more information about the computers before I can help.” 

Anathema sighed. “Aziraphale. I kept one of the owner’s manuals under the counter in one of the drawers. Grab it for me?”

Aziraphale hurried over to the counter and opened drawers at random, trying to find the manual. It probably would have been more helpful if Anathema had given him a description of what the book looked like, or at least which drawer she put it in. Then he opened the right drawer and saw a book with a picture of the computer on the cover. 

But in his hurry to bring it over to Anathema, he took the corner of the counter a bit too fast and ended up colliding with someone else, nearly losing his balance. Instinctively he reached out to grab something to steady himself, and the other person did the same. In a fraction of a second, Aziraphale’s balance was lost with the added weight of someone clinging to his outstretched arm. The pair tumbled to the ground. 

“I am so sorry!” Aziraphale didn’t mean to shout, but he had been caught by surprise. He looked down at the person he was practically sprawled on top of and felt embarrassed once again. After last week’s debacle with insulting and telling him how inappropriate his story choices were, Aziraphale was hoping he could have avoided Crowley today.

“I should have been paying more attention.” Like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming Lorry, Aziraphale failed to move. For a moment time seemed to pause as Aziraphale took in the flush that colored Crowley’s face. It was then that Aziraphale realized he was essentially trapping him. He sprang off of Crowley as quickly as possible. “That was very rude of me.”

Aziraphale stood first and reached out to offer and hand to help Crowley. It was the least he could do after knocking him over.

“S’fine, angel.” Crowley dusted himself off and adjusted his sunglasses, which had gone slightly askew in the tumble. For a moment, Aziraphale saw a flash of colour he couldn’t quite describe beneath those dark lenses and suddenly he had the urge to ask about the glasses. But that seemed to be a little too forward, so he decided not to. 

“What did you call me?” Aziraphale knew he was staring, but he wasn’t sure if he heard that correctly. 

Crowley, on the other hand, looked slightly confused for a second, then a whole other variety of expression crossed his face before settling on embarrassed. 

“Uhh, angel?” Clearly he wasn’t prepared to explain himself. “I thought your name was too long. Plus it sounded more like an angel’s name. Figured it’d be easier to call you angel.” 

“I hardly think that name is appropriate.” 

“I thought we established last week that I don’t care about appropriateness,” Crowley chuckled, falling back into a more relaxed demeanor.

“Aziraphale!” Anathema called from the computers. 

That was when he realised what caused this terrible incident. 

“Oh! Sorry.” He gave an apologetic look and quickly stepped around Crowley to return the book to Anathema.

“Well, I’m going to have to work on the computers with… Newt, right?” He nodded. “So you’re in charge of the counter today.”

When Aziraphale turned to leave them to their work, he was surprised to see Crowley still standing there. That was also the moment that Aziraphale noticed his clothing choices which, much like his story choices, was not suitable for volunteering at a library. The buttons of his entirely too tight purple shirt strained to keep the fabric shut. And Aziraphale was scrambling for something to say other than make a comment about his outfit that would probably insult him… again. 

“And what traumatizing stories are you bestowing upon the children today?” 

“I thought we’d go a bit with the classics. I was thinking ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow’.” Crowley smiled and seemed to wait to see Aziraphale’s response to that.

“I believe you already know what I think about it.” 

Crowley laughed, said his goodbye, and sauntered over to the reading area. With a roll of his eyes, Aziraphale watched the other man walk away in his too tight shirt and, oh good lord, were those leather trousers? And there was no need for that much hip swaying either. Aziraphale just huffed and began checking in the returned books a little more roughly than he probably should have. That man had no sense of what should and should not be allowed in a library.

Eventually, Anathema finished getting the computers set up, and banned Newt from touching them. He could see her leaning over the newspapers with Newt and talking at alarming speeds. The young boy would smile and nod, but looked a little too terrified to respond. Even from this distance, Aziraphale could see the tiniest hints of affection blossom between the two. 

He felt a little pang of jealousy. It wasn’t that he wanted their affections, not even in the slightest, but he was a bit envious that they connected so well and it was their first meeting nonetheless. It had been a long time since someone had shown any affection towards him. The last he could remember was a handsome young man who bonded with Aziraphale over their love for Oscar Wilde books. Unfortunately, after a few dates, he found that beyond a shared love for the same author, they really didn’t have much else in common.

In the years that followed, Aziraphale wound up focusing more on his work while at the library rather than others who came in. Which suited him just fine, he was comfortable with his books and his shop. And it wasn’t as if anyone else was interested anyway.

The returned books were piled onto the cart and Aziraphale was about to go about his rounds when he looked through the glass doors to the reading room. A small boy, probably no older than five, wound up in Crowley’s lap for this session. He poked and prodded at the book in the man’s hands, but like a professional Crowley kept reading. Aziraphale smiled as he watched this small boy try and turn pages before it was time, or pushing at the book just for fun. 

Crowley just smirked and, on what must have been a particularly scary line, he shouted and dropped the book making the small boy shriek loud enough to echo through the building. It was quickly followed up with a round of laughter which included the small boy. Aziraphale smiled as well. When Crowley picked up the book, he looked up and made eye contact through the glass. Or at least Aziraphale assumed he did what with the sunglasses he was wearing. His assumption was confirmed when he smiled at Aziraphale and waved a little.

Aziraphale realised he had been caught staring and only managed a half-hearted wave back before he quickly pushed the cart as far away from the reading room as possible. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, completely lost in his work, but the sounds of children laughing and running around to several sections in the library indicated that the reading circle must have been over.

Carefully, he maneuvered the cart out of one aisle and was pleasantly surprised to see Crowley exiting the reading room nearby. For a moment, Aziraphale debated going up to him and asking how the reading went, but thought better of it. Surely the man didn’t need to be bothered everytime Aziraphale saw him. 

Crowley, though, must have had a similar thought process. He paused in his walk before turning heel and heading straight over to Aziraphale.

“Need any help?” Crowley picked up a book at random and flipped through it absentmindedly as if trying to figure out where it would go.

“No, thank you,” Aziraphale said dismissively. He probably shouldn’t have, but he still wasn’t sleeping well and as a result was getting a little irritable. “I hardly think you would know the dewey decimal system anyway.” 

“Not a clue,” Crowley leaned against the cart carefully with a sly smile. Azirpahale regretted his short tone even if Crowley didn’t seem phased by it. “But I’m a quick learner, if you’ll teach me.”

Or perhaps Crowley didn’t notice the tone. I mean with barely even a proper conversation before, how would he know that Aziraphale was being a bit moody? Obviously he was being polite. For now. It probably wouldn’t take long before Crowley realised what an arse Aziraphale can be when he didn’t get a proper night’s sleep, which was most nights. Once he figured that out, Crowley would run out of patience and stop talking to him. 

“And why would you want to help?” Aziraphale side-eyed him suspiciously while he pushed one book aside on the shelf to make space for the one in his hand.

“You look like you could use the company.” He dropped the flirtatious pretense and stood back up. “If not, I could go.”

“No, no,” Azirapale sighed. He shouldn’t have been so rude to the other man. “That is very kind of you. I am very irritable today, so I apologize.” 

He picked the book out of Crowley’s hands and showed him the label on the spine. He explained how it worked and where this particular book would need to go. 

After a few more examples, Crowley was able to test his own skills. He managed to place the next few books correctly with Aziraphale’s guidance. True to his word, Crowley was a quick learner and Aziraphale had to admit it was nice to have someone to keep him company. Their conversation flowed freely, which wasn’t something that normally happened. Usually Aziraphale felt a bit awkward around others at first, he would always attempt small talk simply because that is what most people did but honestly he was terrible at it.

Aziraphale never wanted to talk about the weather or whatever other nonsense most people defaulted to in conversations. It always felt so shallow. His time was always better spent engaging in meaningful conversations, where he got to know the other person better. Or actually got to enjoy the topic at head. 

Then Crowley told him about this nature documentary he had watched where, apparently, there was an island where monkeys ate fermented sugar cane and ended up developing a taste for alcohol. 

“So just imagine that.” Crowley laughed while continuing to reshelve the books. “You’re enjoying this nice dinner and then out of nowhere a monkey grabs your drink and makes off with it.” 

That image startled a laugh out of Aziraphale. “Oh, that sounds terrible. Hopefully, you would get your money back for the absconded drink.”

“Hope so.” Crowley continued. “Makes you wonder, though. What other sort of animal likes to get drunk? It’s such a fun hobby.”

While Aziraphale was focused on the stack of books in his hand, he didn’t notice Crowley next to him working through his own set of books. They were close enough the Aziraphale could faintly smell the pleasant cologne that Crowley was wearing. It was something sweet but with a touch of an earthy spice, possibly roses with a mix of cedar. 

He wasn’t sure what it was, perhaps the conversation, or the nice cologne, or being around these books with pleasant company, but Aziraphale realized that this was the first time in several years that he was actually enjoying his time at the library. It wasn’t that he hated what he did — after all, he could just leave if he no longer liked being at the library — but he hadn’t been as happy lately as he was when he first volunteered. Now he felt like he did in the beginning, laughing and talking with others as the work was done. It was such a wonderful feeling of contentment, that he didn’t know he had been missing in his life. If spending more time with Crowley would make him feel that happiness, then that was what he should continue to do.

“Elephants, I think.” Aziraphale said.

“What?”

“From what I’ve heard, there are some elephants who will ferment fruit in their trunks.” 

“I don’t believe that.” Crowley smiled almost as if he was happy that Aziraphale was indulging him in this ridiculous conversation.

“It’s just what I’ve heard. Although I haven’t fact-checked it myself.”

“Don’t go around spreading false information.” 

Aziraphale gasped scandalized. “I would never! I am a librarian and take the transfer of knowledge very seriously.”

“Well, I’ll have to google it and let you know. Can’t have a librarian going around telling people the wrong thing.”

And when Aziraphale bent down to pick another book and his fingers touched cold metal, he realized that they had actually finished reshelving all the books. Truthfully though, talking with Crowley has made time pass so quickly. He was a little disappointed that it was coming to an end so soon. Especially since Crowley slipped and mentioned that his favorite show was ‘The Golden Girls’, and he hadn’t had much time to tease him about it. 

“Well, I guess you are all done for today, huh?” Crowley said as they walked the empty cart back to the main counter. “Don’t suppose I could give you a lift home?” 

“That is very kind of you,” Aziraphale replied. “As tired as I am, I still have a few more things to do before I can leave. I will see you next week though, right?”

“Right.” Crowley nodded a bit disappointed. “Right, next week. See you then, angel.”

Aziraphale wouldn’t admit it, but he watched the man walk away still thinking those hips moved way too much, but enjoying the view anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The week flew by much quicker than Aziraphale had expected. He had to make a trek out of London on Friday to meet with a gentleman who owned a very old, and very misspelled, bible. After some negotiations, Aziraphale managed to convince him to sell the book at a reasonable price. The trip was a bit longer than expected and he didn’t make it back to the shop until late in the evening.

As a result of traveling, he really didn’t get much sleep. When Saturday rolled around, he contemplated calling into the Library to let them know that he wouldn’t make it. After all, he wasn’t required to go in because he was just a volunteer, albeit a special one. He did the work of an employee, but he refused to be paid, even though the head of the library had offered on more than one occasion. And each time he either suggested they offer that pay to Anathema as a pay raise or use it to purchase more books and supplies.

Most volunteers at the library consisted of people teaching classes, or running groups of sorts, or even leading reading circles. That last thought made him think of Crowley. It was Saturday. Crowley would most definitely be reading to the children today. The idea of being able to see him again was convincing enough for Aziraphale to crawl out of bed. 

He greeted Anathema with a weak wave when he came in and settled behind the counter. His sleep deprivation was really starting to take its toll; he was yawning every couple of minutes and no matter how much cold water he used, the bags under his eyes wouldn’t go away. 

“Morning.” Anathema walked up beside him. “Sleeping alright?”

“No better than usual.” Aziraphale responded. “But I’ll manage. How are you?”

“Fine. Are you sure you're alright, though?”

“Of course, don’t you worry. Tell me about your date.” 

Anathema had mentioned the day before that he had plans to go out with Newt, the one who broke all the computers the previous week. After a moment of hesitation, probably not really believing Aziraphale was okay, she began to tell him about their dinner. He sounded like a nice young man, not really her type, but she gave him a shot and they had a wonderful time together. She was explaining the plans she was crafting for their second date; she wanted to take him to a palm reader and see his reaction. All Aziraphale could say was ‘that’s nice dear’ distracted as he was by the pestering need to catch sight of the familiar red hair that had featured in one or five dreams recently.

After a while of helping people with book recommendations, he caught a flash of red but not the red he was expecting. It was Crowley alright, but he was dressed more civilized this time. He wore a deep red suit jacket with black lapels, his shirt was a crisp white that fit him like a glove, and the trousers were black much like his usual style. To top it all off, he had a crimson red bow tie that matched the jacket and called all the attention to his throat. 

The addition of clothing made Aziraphale freeze. He was so used to seeing Crowley showing off skin, that now he was covered, it was a stark contrast but it made him look even more striking then he had before. The thought of how handsome Crowley attached itself to his mind like a limpet, and Aziraphale had no idea how to remove it.

Objectively, he had to admit that Crowley was attractive. He had all the right features for it, sharp cheekbones, dazzling smile, and styled hair that probably took quite a bit of effort to achieve. But Aziraphale usually didn’t care too much for looks, he was more interested in the type of person underneath it all. Spending this time with Crowley had been so easy, and Aziraphale opened up in ways he usually didn’t when he met new people. Perhaps his mind just wanted to latch onto the idea that there could potentially be something brewing between him and Crowley. But that was just silly. 

Anathema slapped his upper arm to catch Aziraphale’s attention. Apparently she had been in the middle of talking but Aziraphale had not been paying attention, which was terribly rude of him. She raised an eyebrow at the man and followed his gaze to see Crowley walking towards the reading room. 

“You know, normal people would go say hello,” Anathema said.

Aziraphale blinked a couple of times. “No, I shouldn’t bother him. Especially when he’s on his way to volunteer.”

“Right.” She didn’t sound convinced. Instead she picked a book at random and didn’t even act as if it was an accident when it was tossed on the floor. The resounding bang was loud enough that everyone nearby stopped to look. “Whoops, clumsy me.”

Before Aziraphale could react, he saw Crowley walking straight towards them. He paused to scoop up the fallen book and placed it in front of Aziraphale.

“Morning, angel.” Crowley smiled and leaned on the counter. Anathema took this moment to quietly leave.

“Crowley,” he started, but didn’t quite know where that sentence was going. He could easily compliment him on how well those black trousers hugged his hips and made his legs look like they could go on for miles and miles‒ but that felt hardly appropriate.

He figured that Crowley was a flirtatious person, considering how he had been acting the last two times, but Aziraphale didn’t want to give the wrong impression. He wasn't looking for casual relationships and something in Crowley's behaviour told Aziraphale that that was the only thing Crowley would be after.

It took Aziraphale some time to realize that they had lapsed into an awkward pause. It wasn't awkward because either one was fidgeting, but because they were both staring at each other, Crowley, presumably, waiting for Aziraphale to finish his sentence.

“I mean, hello Crowley.”

Although Crowley looked to relax just slightly he looked as if he was still waiting for something else to be said. There was a tightness in his jaw that made the nervousness on his face overpower the smile he tried to keep. It was as if he actually cared about Aziraphale’s opinion. Of course with the time they spent together it was the start of something close to a friendship. Hopefully one day they could develop that friendship.

“Er‒ um. What are you going to read today?”

“One of my favorites.” Crowley’s shoulders visibly relaxed and the smile seemed to be much easier as he slipped back into his normal demeanor. He held up a large anthology book, the author’s name — Edgar Allen Poe — written on the cover in gold print. “I haven’t decided between ‘The Pit and the Pendulum’, ‘The Cask of Amontillado’ or ‘Tell Tale Heart’. What do you think?” 

“I would have gone with ‘The Raven’. It's a classic and very beautifully written.”

“Poetry? Really?” Crowley looked down questionly at the book. “Didn’t think you were a poetry lover.”

“Not usually, but there are some poems that have lasted throughout time and I have grown to love.” Aziraphale smiled thinking of a couple of his favorites. “And neither the angels in Heaven above, Nor the demons down under the sea, Can ever dissever my soul from the soul, Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.”

“Oh, so you are a Poe fan.” Crowley smiled wider. “If we’re reciting poetry I prefer sonnets. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”

“Oh, good lord.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “I like Shakespeare, but that one has been run into the ground.”

Crowley leaned against the counter and dropped his dark rimmed glasses just enough that Aziraphale was treated to a glimmer of golden and possibly something else that he couldn’t quite figure out. “Mad in pursuit and in possession so; Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme; A bliss in proof and proved, a very woe.”

Of course Crowley would choose one of the sonnets about sex to quote in front of him. He cleared his throat and decided to play it off. “I think you should probably go to your reading circle now. You are going to be late.” He pointed at the backroom which was already full of parents with their kids.

“I guess I could start with ‘The Raven’ then read one of the other stories.” 

With a shrug, Crowley pushed himself off the counter. Aziraphale noticed his shoulders were a bit more slumped than usual, and he hoped that he hadn’t done anything to make Crowley upset. He hoped they had been making strides forwards as friends but now he worried such a careless remark may have set things back. Aziraphale regretted his actions, but Crowley was already gone, so he couldn’t apologize. 

Crowley took his usual spot on the chair with the children sitting on the floor around. This time a little girl, probably about four with ringlet pigtails, volunteered to help. She sat on his knee and used her finger to point at the words as he spoke. She was much more well behaved than the young boy last weekend who tried to tear the book out of his hand. She even read a few lines when he asked, a large smile on his face as he encouraged her through difficult words. 

A smile pulled at Aziraphale’s face as he watched. The way Crowley interacted with the young children was very adorable, he seemed so at ease. Aziraphale, on the other hand, really didn’t have a clue as to the first step in even being around children. There was a reason he insisted on working behind the counter rather than at a reading circle himself. 

He urged the thoughts away and decided to focus wholeheartedly on his work. The return bin was much more full than usual so he began the tedious task of checking in all of the books. While working through them, his gaze and attention kept returning to the reading room. Crowley surely would have finished the poem by now and was moving onto one of the short stories. He watched as the man threw his arms out and shouted at certain points in the story. He clutched at his hair and shook his head, he must have been on the Tell Tale Heart. Aziraphale smiled at his terrible overacting, but the kids were eating it up. 

Throughout the time it took him to read, Aziraphale managed to get through and sort all the books. Just as he started the usual rounds of putting them away, a mass of children tore through the library. 

Without thinking, Aziraphale turned around and looked in the direction of the reading room, debating if he should look for Crowley. It had been nice to see him before and after the reading circle the past few times. The conversations they shared we’re pleasant and he would love to strike it up again, but perhaps he was becoming a little too attached.

He looked towards the reading room and noticed that it was already empty. Anathema had said Crowley would come in before his reading and leave just after, so just because they had been having conversations these past two weekends didn’t mean it was a regular occurrence. Perhaps Aziraphale dismissed him too harshly and Crowley decided he wasn’t worth the effort.

That wouldn’t have been the first time something like this had happened. Aziraphale was a slow moving creature and most people usually got bored and left him alone after a while. He didn’t know why he thought Crowley would be different, it wasn’t like he really got to know him.

Shaking out those negative thoughts, he placed a copy of ‘The Call of the Wild’ on the shelf. Footsteps were nearing him as he bent to take the next book, so he instinctively moved closer to the bookcase to make space for the person to get past him. But the footsteps stopped right behind him. Crowley set a cup, covered by a lid, on the cart and took a sip from his own. Aziraphale's confusion must have shown on his face. 

“I could see you yawning the entire time.” Crowley explained. “Thought you might like something with caffeine. That book girl you always hang out with told me you liked this kind of tea.” He shrugged acting like what he did wasn’t the sweetest thing in the whole world. Especially because he must have sought out Anathema just to ask her what kind of tea he liked. 

Now that he thought about it, he’d never seen them interact with each other and Anthema did comment that Crowley didn’t talk to anyone in the library, him being the exception. Why would he go out of his way to talk to Anathema just to find out what kind of tea he would prefer?

“Thank you.” He took a sip of the black tea nearly scolding his tongue. “That was very kind of you.”

The faintest pink tinge appeared on Crowley’s cheeks and across the bridge of his nose. He muttered something back that Aziraphale was pretty sure was something along the lines of ‘no problem,’ but couldn’t quite hear him clearly. Without asking, Crowley helped to place the books back on the shelves. The pair worked in silence until everything was back where it was supposed to be. Aziraphale sipped his tea, which had cooled to a more manageable temperature while they worked, and pushed the empty cart back to the counter. Crowley trailed behind him, uncharacteristically silent.

Crowley took a large drink out of his own cup, pointedly not making eye contact. He inhaled like he was about to say something, but closed his mouth again. In the end, he said, “I didn’t overstep… I mean earlier, I didn’t… wasn’t too out of line?” 

Aziraphale paused and just looked at the nervous expression on Crowley’s face. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean?”

“You know, earlier. With the sonnet, and stuff?”

“Oh!” In his tired state he’d almost completely forgotten about the conversation earlier. “No, not at all.” He didn't think Crowley would have been worried about how Aziraphale would have interpreted his actions. It was a very sweet notion. "I know how to take a joke."

"Joke, right." Crowley nodded. After a few moments of silence. "So…" Crowley drew out the word longer than necessary. "For two weeks you've been rolling your eyes and making comments about my reading choices and side-eyeing what I wear, but today you have nothing to say?"

Good lord, had he really been so obvious? Maybe it was time to start practicing schooling his features in the mirror, especially if Crowley continued to wear such… fetching clothes. Oh dear, he should not be using such a word to describe Crowley. Complimentary, that was a much better choice. If Crowley continued to wear outfits that complimented him so well, then Aziraphale needed to make sure he could maintain some type of control over his expressions.

"I’ve never. I don’t know what you are talking about Crowley.” 

“You’re not as subtle as you think, I could see you rolling your eyes at what I wear.”

Aziraphale felt shame rising at that statement. He didn’t want to make Crowley feel like he was being judged, even if Aziraphale did have opinions in regards to volunteering. What Crowley chose to do or wear on his own time was none of his business. 

“You, umm…” He took a moment to drag his eyes down Crowley and take in the view. After all, he had been invited to do so since Crowley asked his opinion. “You look very lovely today."

"Lovely? Never heard that one before." Crowley grinned sharply, eyebrow raising playfully. "Well, don't get used to this one. It's uncomfortable and I don't know how you wear one of these all the time." He picked at the bowtie around his neck. 

"Well, it suits you."

Crowley’s cheeks and nose turned the palest shade of pink. He looked away as if trying to avoid eye contact. “I’ve got to head out, but I’ll see you next week?”

“Of course.” Aziraphale nodded with a small smile. Crowley hesitated slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately he walked away.

XXXXX

The following week Aziraphale showed up for his usual Saturday volunteer time and was greeted with a very panicked head librarian. Tracy barely even let him walk through the door before she latched herself onto his arm.

“Aziraphale, dearie, I need your help.” She was smiling warmly, but the desperation was evident in her eyes. “Of all the volunteers, you are the only one I can really trust to assist Anathema.” 

When Aziraphale first began volunteering at the library, he was a little weary of the head librarian. This was supposed to be a professional position after all, she was in charge of all the finances, ordering books, maintaining the building, and everything else needed to run a public library, but she was the opposite of what Aziraphale imagined the head librarian would be. Truthfully, he expected someone who was similar to himself, someone with a love of books and could balance a budget well.

However, he met Tracy and was shocked by how different she was. She always wore over-the-top outfits with way too much color and shawls. Not to mention she always had on enough pieces of jewelry to outfit a queen. More than once he had been conned into a tarot reading, which he very much did not believe in. 

After a while of volunteering, Aziraphale got to know her more, and it turned out they got along very well. They ended up having a few nights in the bookshop where they just indulged in wine, played some cards, and Aziraphale listened to all her latest gossip‒ even if he had no idea who these celebrities she talked about were. 

During a few of these nights, she revealed that she had been just as distrusting about Aziraphale volunteering as he had been of her being in charge of the library. It turned out that she didn’t have the best of luck when it came to volunteers. Usually people would just stop showing up without saying anything or something would inevitably come up and they would no longer have time to spend at the library. She assumed the same thing would happen with Aziraphale. But it never did. 

Over the years, they had developed a pleasant friendship.

“Well, good morning to you too, Tracy.” Aziraphale smiled warmly as they walked towards the check in counter, Tracy refusing to let go of his arm. 

“Not too good of a morning, though. Mr. Shadwell is feeling a little under the weather. I had to leave some soup for him to heat up later this afternoon and he was not happy that I refused to put sugar in his tea. I told him that sugar would not help, but the tea would be soothing. He just grumbled and buried himself under the covers.” She looked concerned for her husband. Although Aziraphale assumed he probably just had a case of the sniffles, but acted as if he was dying of the plague. Shadwell had a tendency to be overly dramatic at times. 

“I am sorry to hear that. Send him my well wishes for a speedy recovery.” 

“Oh, aren’t you just a love.” Tracy smiled and placed her head on his shoulder. “Now about that favor.” 

Aziraphale sighed and steadied himself for what was about to be asked. The last time he agreed to a favor from Tracy it was to go to her house for a dinner party. He thought she just wanted another guest, since she had a few people cancel, but it turned out she actually had a secret agenda to introduce her nephew to him. It did not go well. 

Aziraphale wasn’t even sure how they were related. That man had worn a business suit and had been more interested in work than trying to have any type of conversation with anyone at the dinner party. He’d been constantly texting, claiming it was for work purposes, and when he did contribute to the conversation it had been only to pepper in the fact that he was a very important person at the company he worked in. By the end of the night, Tracy had apologized for his behavior and had explained that Gabriel used to be so different. 

“First, I need to know what the favour is about before I acquiesce to help you.” 

“Damn, you’re learning. I knew I shouldn’t have asked so many things of you before.” She tittered before continuing. “Well, as you know I’m trying to expand on the courses we have at the library and I need help.”

“Are you asking me to help teach a course?” Aziraphale was a little worried about that prospect. He had never taught a class and didn’t really know how to even begin figuring out what to do.

“If you would like, but honestly I need someone to help coordinate. You’d just have to be here in the evening to help direct people to the room and with whatever is needed for the classes.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale was relieved. That was simple, he could easily do that provided it fit into his schedule. 

Aziraphale had been volunteering once a week on the weekends for a while, mostly on Sundays, but lately he had switched to Saturdays. He could close up his shop a little early during the week and come in to help out. That shouldn't really affect business since rarely did people just show up unannounced. After all, his shop specialized in rare and antique books; usually, people who bought those were collectors and they tended to make appointments. Plus, once he closed shop for the night, he didn’t really have much else going on in his life. 

“That shouldn’t be an issue. What days would you need me?”

“Just Mondays and Wednesdays. Anathema could use some help with her classes on those days. If you could get here about five in the evening to help set up, that would be wonderful. The class itself would be from six to seven with clean up afterward.”

“And what is the class that is being offered?”

“I can’t really recall, but she can tell you more about it.”

“Well, I am sure it will be wonderful.” He smiled softly at Tracy who had to excuse herself to get some work done. 

“You are such a sweetie. I don’t know why someone hasn’t snatched you up already.” She squeezed his arm reassuringly and left. 

Aziraphale went about his day as usual, but this time he was more lost in thought. That last comment shouldn’t have really meant anything. Tracy was just pointing out how well she thought of him; it shouldn't have served as a reminder of just how alone Aziraphale truly was.

There hadn’t been anyone truly significant in his life in such a long time that it was almost painful. He knew he wasn’t considered a traditionally handsome man, but he was comfortable with who he was. Plenty of people didn’t seem to mind how he looked, or at least the few people he had gone on dates with. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be enough to get someone to stick around. 

If he were younger, he could easily brush off a rejection, tell himself there was plenty of time to find that special someone. Now that he was nearing the end of his thirties, it was more difficult to recover after a rejection. Because of this, he was hesitant in giving people a chance to get close enough to allow them the option of rejecting him. After a while, he just stopped trying, and instead he found happiness in his bookshop and volunteering.

But the silence he had as company was becoming tiresome and, quite honestly, depressing. That was probably why he ended up falling asleep in the chair in his backroom, so he could pretend that his flat upstairs wasn’t so cold and alone.

Just as he was finishing with the last of the books, he heard a familiar voice.

“Angel.” Aziraphale had to fight the little flutter in his stomach when Crowley used that nickname. Amazingly enough, Crowley was actually dressed in something that may be considered appropriate. Just a simple grey turtleneck with a black jacket.

He released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. After last week's outfit, he was convinced Crowley was going to show up in something similar. 

“Hello, Crowley.”

“Angel, I have a very serious question for you.” The tone of his voice made Aziraphale feel a little concerned as he watched Crowley place a small book on the counter. “If you could have three wishes, what would they be?”

It took Aziraphale a few seconds for his brain to process what was said. He could feel his eyebrows scrunch up in confusion.

“But of course,” Crowley continued, a smile appearing on his face. “There would be some hellish consequences for those wishes.” 

“What on earth are you talking about?”

Crowley let out a sharp laugh. “I’m going to read ‘The Monkey’s Paw’ today and it got me thinking about what sort of things would you wish for if you could?”

“Really, I don’t have time for this silly nonsense.”

“C’mon, indulge me. What would your wishes be?” 

Seeing the gleeful look on Crowley’s face made Aziraphale’s resolve crumble. He sighed, “Fine. I guess I would want my bookshop to make enough money without having to sell my books.” 

“It could burn down.”

“What?” Aziraphale couldn’t keep the panic from his voice. 

“You know, in the book the monkey’s paw takes your wishes and grants them in the worst way possible. Your shop could burn down and you’d make money off of the insurance claim without having to sell a book. Although you wouldn’t have any more books to sell either.”

“Crowley that is horrible. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” The idea of his shop being gone was the worst thing he could possibly think of. 

“Oh, come one. It’s just for fun. See, for me I would wish that my Bentley would stay in perfect condition forever. But it would probably end up in some museum and I’d never get to drive it again.”

“That hardly seems comparable.”

“Says you. If I didn’t get to drive my car, that would be a fate worse than hell.” 

Aziraphale sighed and ran his hand down his face. He’d had a particularly rough and sleepless night, then he got coerced into helping out even more at the library, then this. It was all too much to handle right now. 

“What is the point of this conversation?”

“Just for fun really.” Crowley looked a bit crestfallen. “Didn’t mean to stress you out or anything.”

“It’s not that. I’ve just had a rather rough start to the day.”

“Anything I can do to make it better?”

Aziraphale looked up at his genuine expression of concern and softened a bit. “No, I’m fine. You should probably go to your reading before the kids riot.” Crowley turned to see the room full of people and sure enough, a few of the kids were starting to get antsy and making some trouble by running around and playing tag. It probably wouldn’t be long until one of them ran into a bystander and someone would end up crying.

“They’ll be fine.” He waved dismissively. “You on the other hand, I’m not so sure.”

“Really, your concern is very touching but-” 

“I’ll give you a ride home later.” Crowley looked so hopeful, which was so endearing. “Then you can see the Bently for yourself and understand why me not driving it would be a terrible fate.”

“I can’t really just neglect my duties here, so I’ll have to just take word for it.” 

“You know, I don’t mind waiting. Perhaps we can even stop by a cafe for some coffee or something?”

“That does sounds lovely, but—”

“You don’t have to decide right now. I’ll ask after the reading session, and I’m okay with whatever you decide.” With one last smile, he left Aziraphale alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his mind from wandering off by focusing on his work. Or at least he tried to, but his mind ceaselessly would come back to where it started, making it a full circle of torment.

It wasn’t until Aziraphale put the last book on the shelf that he realised he managed to finish checking in and restocking all of the returned books. There weren’t too many today, but he was a little disappointed that he finished without Crowley’s help. The past few Saturdays had been so enjoyable with Crowley’s help and conversation. 

Actually, he didn’t even realise how much he had been looking forward to spending more time with Crowley until he looked at the empty cart.

He returned the cart back to the counter just in time for the usual swarm of children to rush out and pick their own books to check out this week. Aziraphale looked over at Crowley who had a small child who was standing one foot on each of Crowley’s shoes who was holding her hands so she couldn’t fall. Together they took a few steps, obviously pretending to be some sort of monster and trying to scare a little boy still sitting on the floor. The young girl laughed, jumped off his feet, and ran over to her mother.

The thought that Crowley would make a wonderful father one day popped into Aziraphale’s head so quickly it nearly startled him. He had to admit, watching Crowley interact with these kids was heartwarming and he was good at it. On the other hand, Aziraphale couldn’t help but think he was probably the opposite. He never knew what he should do or say around small kids, always acting awkward and uptight. But Crowley behaved like he’d always been around them. 

More than likely he had younger siblings. But it was more than just that, the way he interacted with the kids and helped encourage them showed that he must have spent a great deal of time taking care of children, presumably those younger siblings that Aziraphale figured he had.

Then the mother of the girl walked up to Crowley and engaged him in conversation. From where Aziraphale was, he couldn’t hear what exactly was being said, but the loud, and quite obviously, over-exaggerated laugh from the woman echoed in the library. Aziraphale watched as she placed her hand on Crowley’s arm and smiled.

Almost as if he ate something particularly bad, Aziraphale’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. Crowley was an attractive person, anyone could see that, so it only made sense that eventually someone would take an interest in him. Especially given how he interacted with the kids; it was enough to make anyone fawn over him. Aziraphale did notice as well how much the mothers would giggle and whisper amongst themselves when Crowley would do something that they particularly found adorable.

“So Tracy just told me that you are going to help out with the new classes,” Anathema said, appearing out of nowhere. “Aziraphale? Are you okay? You look a little… off.”

“Yes, just fine. Absolutely tip top.” He looked over as the mother laughed again and twisted a lock of hair between her fingers. “Actually, would you mind covering the counter for a bit? I think my tiredness is catching up. Perhaps I just need to sit for a few moments.” 

“Uh yeah, not a problem.”

Aziraphale made his way to the small breakroom. It wasn’t anything special, it was just a simple room big enough for a couch, table, and a few small appliances that had been donated over the years. He dropped unceremoniously onto the couch with a sigh.

He was tired, obviously. That had to be the reason he was feeling the way he was, like he was strung out too thin. The exhaustion was just because he wasn’t getting sleep, and now he had to volunteer extra time just because he had some to spare. 

Aziraphale stayed in the breakroom for longer than what was probably necessary, not wanting to face Crowley. He stayed hidden and regretted every moment of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who had commented or Kudos, it really means the world to me!
> 
> First and foremost, you may have noticed that the chapter count when up. While going through this story I realized that I think I was cramming too much into one chapter so I broke apart some of the chapters I originally had planned. So the rest of the chapters won't be quite as long as planned but I think it will help not feel too overwhelmed. I may also go back once this story is complete and break apart chapters 1 and 2 but I haven't decided yet. 
> 
> My goal is to try and have a chapter posted on Tuesday/Wednesday and Saturday but with my work schedule I can't guarantee I'll be able to keep that schedule but its a nice goal to aim for. I also wanted to give a huge thank you again to my beta [meinposhbastard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meinposhbastard) for not only all the hard work you put in for this story, but for making such a lovely banner that has been added to chapter 1, as well as another one I posted on tumblr. 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

When Monday rolled around, Aziraphale closed up the shop early and found himself at the library once again. It felt a little weird to be there on a day he normally didn’t work, like his routine was completely thrown off. He ignored that and headed inside. 

Towards the back of the library was the education center, a room that most classes happened in. It was fairly bare— able to fit about five large tables with chairs on either side— with just a few small posters that related to a couple of books scattered on the cream coloured walls. It was ideal for any collaborative or group work that needed to be done. 

Anathema was already getting things ready when Aziraphale arrived and asked what to do. Apparently it was just supposed to be a very simple introduction to mindfulness for this first class. Aziraphale really didn’t know what she had planned for tonight, but trusted her in being able to pull it off successfully. He helped set out the last of the supplies, some colored pencils and a few stacks of papers on each table. 

The first of the participants trickled in. All Aziraphale had to do was make sure they were in the right place and write down their names, and if they wanted to provide any contact information for future classes. There was someone who would come in on the weekends to put together a weekly newsletter to be emailed out as well as update the website with the upcoming classes or important information. 

Both Tracy and Anathema had attempted to maintain the website before and realized neither had the skills for it. It was much easier to hire someone to maintain the website, and he enjoyed coming in on the weekends for a few hours to put everything together before checking out books.

The room was about half full when Aziraphale noticed a familiar face walk in.

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked, watching the pleasant smile break out across Crowley's face.

“Book girl told me about this.” Crowley pointed towards Anathema who was busy in conversation with another participant in the class. 

“Since when do you talk to Anathema?”

“Since the angel I normally talk to disappeared on me on Saturday.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale did feel guilty over that. It was childish to hide from Crowley just because he was upset. The whole thing wasn’t even Crowley’s fault, but he took it out on him like it was. “Well, I had finished my rounds early and wasn’t feeling too well so I took a break.” That wasn’t a complete lie, but it also wasn’t the complete truth.

“Are you okay?” Crowley sounded concerned.

“Yes, just needed a bit of a break but I’m fine.”

Crowley ducked his head slightly. “You sure it wasn’t me? I wasn’t being too pushy or anything?”

“Heavens no!” Aziraphale’s stomach twisted again in guilt. That had been so incredibly rude and obviously Crowley blamed himself. “I promise that you did absolutely nothing wrong.”

“‘Kay.” He nodded a little, looking a little more relieved, but there was still some trace of doubt on his face. “And you’re taking care of yourself, right?”

“As best as I can.” Which was to say, not at all.

“You just look more tired than I’ve seen you before, makes me worry that you aren’t taking care of yourself.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale smiled politely, briefly entertaining the idea of placing a hand on Crowley's shoulder to reassure him, but thought better of it. That kind of familiarity didn’t seem proper, so instead he clasped his own hands together in front of him. “That is very kind of you, but I assure you I am alright.” 

That, on the other hand, wasn’t the complete truth, just something to put Crowley’s mind at ease. He’d been struggling with his insomnia issue for a while now and was more or less used to the lack of sleep. At first, he was extremely irritable and would snap at most people, usually the people who tried to buy his books at the shop, but he’d become better at recognizing those feelings and stopping himself from reacting that way. However, he would still have trouble concentrating from time to time, no matter how much he’d become accustomed to his erratic sleep schedule.

“Well,” Aziraphale held out the clipboard with the sign in papers hoping to change the subject. “If you are here for the class, could you sign in?”

“Yeah, sure.” Crowley signed the paper and handed it back. “Book girl really didn’t say what this is about, just some hippie nonsense. Said I ought to come.”

“It’s guided meditation. There is actually a lot of research that shows the benefits of regular mindfulness practice. It helps reduce stress and anxiety.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hippie nonsense, just what I said.” He smiled brightly at the exasperated huff Aziraphale gave him. “Although, this class sounds like it would be perfect to help you. Maybe you can join me at a table?”

For a moment, Aziraphale chewed his lip in thought, it would be a nice excuse to spend a bit more time with Crowley. But he was here to volunteer, not fulfill his own selfish wants. 

“Anathema has already showed me some of these exercises, but unfortunately I can’t seem to get my mind to settle to actually complete any of them.” 

“Well, maybe I’ll get something out of this and can give you some pointers.” Crowley suggested.

“Let’s just see how you do with one class, before offering to help.” He said with a small smile. It was really kind of Crowley to offer, and as much as Aziraphale wanted to take him up on it, he knew it couldn’t have been genuine. Just something to be polite.

After all, there was really no reason that Crowley would want to spend time with him outside of the library.

Banishing that thought, Aziraphale showed him to a seat and explained the process. Crowley decided he wanted a few of the coloring pages to work on, something that would keep his hands busy during the class. Aziraphale may have spent more time than necessary helping him pick out a few pages. Afterwards, he had to check in with several of the new people who entered while he had been distracted and have them sign in. 

When Anathema called for the class to begin, Aziraphale kept to himself at the back. He kept a watchful eye to see if anyone needed anything, but it turned out he wasn’t really needed at this time. Perhaps at clean up there would be a bit more to do. 

Without meaning to, Aziraphale’s eyes swept over the class and fell on the styled red hair that stood out more than anyone else. From this angle he was barely able to make out the side of his face with the small snake tattoo etched into his skin. While trying not to disturb the peace of the room, Aziraphale took a few silent steps to the side to better see the tattoo. It was very simple, just a black snake in a coiled design just under the sideburn by his right ear. 

He wondered what had prompted Crowley to get it. Perhaps he had a passion for reptiles, or maybe as a child he had had a pet and this was a homage to it. Hopefully, he would gather the courage to ask about it after class. 

Anathema continued to talk the class through several short guided meditations, explaining the purpose and the benefits to them. There was one to relax and reduce tension, a body scan to become aware of emotions, one for listening, and finally one for gratitude. Crowley attempted to follow along, but Aziraphale could see him zoning out and not paying attention. 

When Anathema was starting up the final meditation, Aziraphale cleaned up the tables with all the supplies. It was amazing to see that after just one night, with a handful of people, everything that had been set out nice and neat was a mixed pile of a mess. He worked to group the papers together and organize everything. By the time Anathema finished, so did Aziraphale. 

Everyone exited the room in a slightly dulled state of relaxation. Aziraphale had a few books set up at the small table by the door so he could give recommendations that related to the class. This would hopefully encourage people to come back and check out books and overall increase the amount of people who visited the library. 

When everyone finally left, he noticed that Crowley was not in the crowd.. Aziraphale saw him face down on the table, peacefully asleep. There was something oddly relaxing about seeing him to look tranquil, the gentle rise and fall of this back as he breathed. The way his face, normally all angles with a rakish smile, was all soft and peaceful. Lips slack as little puffs of breath ruffling the papers under him, and his arms gently resting around his head. Even his usual sunglasses were askew, pushed up at an odd angle, partially covering one eye and his forehead. Aziraphale couldn’t help but melt at the sight.

The urge to find a blanket and wrap him up was overwhelming, because he wanted nothing more than to allow him to continue to sleep. Perhaps even pull up a chair and read just to keep him company. But he knew that this couldn’t possibly be comfortable for long. He tried to commit to memory Crowley’s sleeping face before waking him.

“Crowley.” He tried to keep his voice light so as not to startle him. “Crowley.” 

When nothing happened, Aziraphale looked up at Anathema who was finishing gathering the last of the supplies on the table. She gestured for him to talk a bit louder.

“Crowley.” He said in a normal tone which caused just the smallest of stirs. Without thinking, Aziraphale reached his hand out and placed it on Crowley’s back gently, the warmth of him seeping into Aziraphale’s hand.

With that, Crowley shot up quickly with an incoherent string of noises, one of the half colored pages clinging to the side of his face as he looked around wildly, trying to get his bearings. When he finally looked at him, Aziraphale couldn’t help the involuntary titter as the paper fell back onto the table, leaving a small smudge of red and blue ink across his cheek. Aziraphale caught the slightest hint of a golden brown colour of his eyes before the sunglasses were promptly fixed.

“You fell asleep. It must have been, what did you call it? The hippie nonsense.”

Crowley yawned, “I was just tired, angel. Nothing more.”

“Of course,” Aziraphale condeeded. Before he could continue to tease a little more, he noticed a faint patch of something blue on Crowley’s cheek, probably ink from the coloring page he was resting on. “Oh, I think you have something.” Aziraphale gestured towards his face hoping that Crowley would get the hint.

It took a moment of Crowley staring at him in confusion before he understood and rubbed at his own face. 

“Better?” The color was a little fainter, but not by much.

“Do you mind if I—” Aziraphale said without thinking, only realising after that fact what he was offering. Hopefully, Crowley wouldn’t think he was being too fussy or that he was incapable of cleaning the mark himself. He felt a small wave of embarrassment and tried to think of a way to change the subject.

“Yeah, sure. I can’t see it after all.” Crowley’s voice sounded a little hesitant, but his gentle smile eased Aziraphale’s nerves a little.

Carefully, he reached out and cupped his fingers along Crowley’s jaw, guiding his head to look up at Aziraphale so he could see the mark better. It was almost as if Crowley’s jaw was made for Azirahale’s hand. And he was all too aware how well they fit together. The sharp edges of Crowley’s jaw resting comfortably in his palm, the coarse stubble grazing the soft skin of Aziraphale’s hand. 

There was a sudden realization that this was the first time he was touching Crowley‒ of course, in a perfectly platonic way‒ but the way his fingers brushed gently on his jaw, and the way Crowley was looking at him with his mouth parted slightly, made it feel much more intimate than it had any right to be.

The soft puff of Crowley’s breath on his arm reminded him that he was supposed to be helping, not doing this. Whatever this was.

Using his thumb, he rubbed at the mark on Crowley’s face until it was nearly gone. He couldn’t clean it all without water and he was not about to lick his own thumb for that purpose. That would most definitely cross some sort of line.

“Much better.” Aziraphale pulled away, not just his hand but his entire self. He needed to put a bit of space between them in order to regain some type of control over his own thoughts. 

“Thanks, angel.” Crowley had a lopsided smile plastered on his face. 

For a moment they just stared at each other, Aziraphale had no idea what to do next.

“Don’t know about you two,” Anathema was in the process of slipping on her coat. “But I am ready to go. Newt is going to be here to pick me up. How are you getting home Aziraphale?”

“Oh, well I was going to take the bus.”

“At this time of night?” Crowley did sound a bit worried. “Don’t you think that’s a bit, I dunno, unsafe?”

“Unsafe? No. I’ve lived in this part of the city for most of my adult life and never once felt unsafe.”

“Well, to be fair,” Anathema interrupted, “you usually aren’t out at night, so it could be a little unsafe. Maybe you should call for a ride?”

“I can give you a ride,” Crowley blurted out.

“That would be a good idea.” Anathema nodded all too quickly, and all of a sudden Aziraphale felt like he was being set up. 

“No, I couldn’t impose.”

“S’not an imposition or else I wouldn’t have offered.” The smile Crowley wore was far too large and genuine for him to just be polite.

“And,” Anathema added, “we’re all cleaned up. Newt is going to be here in a few moments to pick me up, so you are free to leave.”

Aziraphale looked between them a bit suspiciously, but he was much too tired to try and figure out if this was more than just a coincidence. They were just looking out for his best interests. And honestly his sleep deprivation has been affecting him lately, it may not be the best choice to rely on public transportation. He could accidentally get off at the wrong stop and have to walk home in the dark. Or he could fall asleep and wind up clear across town with no way of getting back.

Maybe it would be best to just agree to the offered ride. 

“Oh, well if you are really sure you don’t need any help?” 

“Nope.” Anathema shook her head. “I’m good.”

“Well then.” He turned to Crowley. “I suppose we should be off.”

The smallest of smiles crested Crowley’s lips which was very endearing. 

Aziraphale was more than a little impressed with the car they approached. An antique Bentley sat in the parking lot, shining under the lone street lamp that illuminated the small parking area. It was obviously well taken care of, and Crowley beamed with pride when Aziraphale complimented it. How Crowley managed to not only purchase but also maintain an antique Bentley, was very impressive; it must cost a fortune to actually maintain the car. 

“I do have to admit, this is a very nice car.” Crowley’s smile was nearly as large as his face. 

“Told ya angel. If I couldn’t drive my car it would be a terrible fate.” It took a moment for Aziraphale to recall the conversation from the past weekend about their three wishes.

“I can see why, it's very lovely.”

Aziraphale quickly explained the directions to his shop and relaxed into the leather of the seats. Although all his relaxing was for nothing since the moment the car was on the street, Crowley drove like a bat out of hell. Aziraphale’s arms sprang out and clutched onto anything they could reach.

“Crowley, don’t you think-” He ducked his head as Crowley rounded a corner a bit faster then he really should have. “You really ought to slow down!”

“Nah,” Crowley smirked. “A car like this is meant to go fast.”

Aziraphale wanted to protest that given how old the vehicle was, it should be driven slower in order not to damage it. Again Crowley turned sharply and Aziraphale grabbed onto the door handle. He held tight and closed his eyes thinking that no matter how dangerous they thought public transportation was at this time, surely it must be safer than actually accepting a ride from Crowley. 

After a few minutes, the car slowed down and ceased movements. Aziraphale cracked one eye open and saw his familiar neighborhood. He released his breath in a loud exhale. It was then he realised he was still gripping the dashboard in front of him with one hand, his other was white knuckled around the door handle.

“Um, angel. I don’t want to be rude, but I think you are just overreacting.” Crowley chuckled as Aziraphale slowly removed his hands.

“Overreacting?” Aziraphale calmed his shaking nerves a bit. “I think I reacted appropriately considering you almost drove us off the road.”

“I did no such thing!” 

“Those painted lines are there for a reason Crowley.” Aziraphale argued. “Not that you actually obeyed them.”

“Lotta talk coming from someone who doesn’t drive.” Although Crowley tried to frame it to get under Aziraphale’s skin, he wore too large a smile for it to actually be insulting.

“Just because I choose not to drive, doesn’t mean I am unfamiliar with traffic laws.”

Crowley chuckled. “Alright, alright angel. How about next time I’ll try to not terrify you as much.”

Aziraphale picked up on the promise of there being a next time and smiled. He’d assumed this was a one time offer, but was happy to have something to look forward to. Neither of them looked at each other for a moment. His gaze fell to his hands, which were folded neatly in his lap, and took in the silence that settled around them. It wasn’t the type of silence that felt unbearable, merely a pause in the conversation. Just long enough to take in what had been said. 

At this point, the best course of action was to probably just thank him for the ride and leave, but he found himself searching for an excuse to stay and talk a little bit longer. 

“Huh, you really do live in a bookshop, don’t you?” Crowley was staring at the dark building. 

“Yes, I have a flat just above the shop.”

“So you just love to surround yourself in books?”

“Oh yes!” Aziraphale felt the nervousness from his earlier mistake melt away. “I’ve always had a love for books growing up, there was just something so beautiful about the written word that I just couldn’t get enough. I would often get scolded by my mother for staying up all night reading and then fall asleep in class the next day.” Although some things never change since Aziraphale would still prefer to stay up late getting lost in a particularly good book. “When I was able to save up enough, I got my own shop. What about you? You must like books enough if you volunteer to read every weekend.”

“Uh, not particularly.” Aziraphale was absolutely flabbergasted at that admission. Who in their right mind wouldn’t love books? “I mean, it's not as if I don’t read, cause I do. But I’ve never really had the passion for it, you know. It's usually just ink on paper, sometimes it can hold my attention but mostly once I put the book down, I won’t pick it back up.”

“Oh.” That really didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Aziraphale, but he knew to respect other opinions well enough. “Why do you volunteer then? I mean, if you don’t like books.”

The faintest of pinks colored Crowley’s cheeks and bridge of his nose. “It was… uh, work related.”

When no other information was offered, Aziraphale dropped the subject. He was curious as to how this volunteer work related to his job, and what his job was. But he could see that Crowley was looking a bit uncomfortable about the whole subject for some reason or another, perhaps he could ask again another day. 

That is, if Crowley didn’t object to spending more time together.

“Well I think you are a wonderful volunteer, and the kids are very lucky to have someone like you.” Curiosity got the better of him, and Aziraphale asked. “How did you learn to be so good with kids?” 

Crowley made a string of incomprehensible noises. “Just, around.”

“I thought maybe it was because you had younger siblings or something.”

“Nah, I’m an only child.” Crowley shrugged. “Although I did have a bunch of cousins but I wasn’t particularly close with them.” 

“Well, you should count yourself lucky. I have three other siblings and home could be quite challenging with them.”

“How so?” It had been some time since Aziraphale had told someone about his family, and Crowley seemed to be genuinely interested in hearing it.

“Well, Micheal is the oldest and no fun at all. All she cared about was school and grades, and since she was ten years older she mostly ignored me. Uriel is only three years older than me, and she was fun when she was little but once she made other friends I was forgotten about. And my younger brother Sandalphon, was basically born as a yes man. He never left mother’s side, and we never really saw eye to eye on a lot of things.”

“I’m sorry to hear that angel. I know how rough family can be.” He paused for a moment. “My cousins Hastur and Ligur hated me. One time, when we were little, they were being annoying and chasing me so I set up a trap. Got an entire bucket of water to drop on Ligur’s head. Ruined his gameboy he had in his pocket.” Crowley laughed brightly, and even though Aziraphale didn’t know these people he couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “I got in so much trouble over that.”

“So you were always a troublemaker then?” 

“Always. Wouldn’t have it any other way.” The laughter died out. “What about you? What kind of kid were you?”

“Just a boring one, I’m afraid.”

“I’d doubt that. Let’s see.” Crowley looked him over and hummed, as if he was trying to analyze something. The attention made Aziraphale squirm, completely unused to someone being so interested in him. “You were definitely a bookworm kid.”

“Well, that is rather obvious.”

“Yeah, but you were probably the type that read books way too advanced for your age.” 

“Anyone who is an avid reader tends to read above their level.”

“You probably hid a torch under your bed just so you could read under the covers, right?”

“Plenty of children do that!” Aziraphale felt the need to defend himself.

“You know, if I met you when we were kids I could have taught you to have all sorts of fun being a troublemaker.” 

“And I could have taught you to have a love for reading.”

“You can learn that at any age but you can only be a troublemaker when you're young. After that, it’s just called irresponsible.”

“Irresponsible? Like reading horror stories at a local public library?”

Crowley laughed. “Exactly.”

The silence came back again, but it felt so light. Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun when someone gave him a ride home. Their conversation flowed so easily, more so than it had ever felt with anyone else.

“Anathema is hosting another class on Wednesday.” Aziraphale looked down at his hands as they fidgeted in his lap and hoped that this was a good excuse to see Crowley again before Saturday. “Not sure if it will be the same or if she’s doing something different, but I have to help. If you wanted to come in again… I, um. Well, that is. I-It might be nice to… see you, there.”

When he finally looked up, Crowley was looking at him with such a bright, fond smile that Aziraphale wound up mirroring back.

“Yeah, ‘course angel. I’ll be there.”

With a final goodnight, Aziraphale got out of the car. He fumbled slightly with his keys and unlocked the front door. Turning back once, he caught Crowley’s hand wave before driving off down the street. Once he was inside the shop, Aziraphale leaned against the door and waited until he couldn't hear the sound of the Bentley anymore. Overall, he was happy that Tracy had coerced him into volunteering that night. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Wednesday was a similar pattern. Aziraphale arrived at the library after closing up his shop and helped Anathema setting up. The topic remained the same, but she changed up a few of the meditations and this time incorporated ways to include them as a daily practice, something that the participants could do at home.

Crowley had sauntered in and immediately flocked to Aziraphale, making a few comments and jokes about the class. Afterwards, Crowley offered to drive him home again, and part of him was a bit wary about getting into that car again, but the other part jumped at the chance of spending a bit more time with the man. He accepted the offer, hesitating only slightly.

They actually were able to have more of a conversation on this ride, since Crowley drove at a more reasonable speed, and Aziraphale learned all about Crowley’s favorite music. It was evident how important music was to Crowley since he was able to rattle off song suggestions much like Aziraphale would recommend books. Apparently his favorite band was a group called Queen, Aziraphale made a mental note to have Anathema help him obtain some of their albums so he could listen and figure out why Crowley loved them so much. 

The following week, Tracy decided to teach a class on Tuesday night, which meant that Aziraphale was voluntold‒ a term in which Anathema used to inform him that she already volunteered him without his knowledge or consent‒ to help with this one too, even though he was still helping with Anathema’s classes, which had somehow become a little more occult when she introduced Tarot readings into it. It meant that Aziraphale was at the library three days in a row during the week on top of his usual Saturday. He would have minded a little bit more if Crowley wasn’t coming in, but it became the perfect excuse to see him. 

On Tuesday night, Aziraphale discovered that Tracy was teaching a knitting class and he was actually pretty thrilled about it. Even though he didn’t really tell people, Aziraphale was fairly good at knitting. In fact, he used to make scarves and hats every Christmas as gifts. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t sure when or why he stopped, just that one day he set down his needles and didn’t pick them back up. Perhaps this would rekindle an old hobby.

He helped Tracy get everything set up and ready with extra knitting needles and plenty of yarn at each table. People slowly trickled in and Aziraphale manned the door, making sure everyone signed in and found a seat.

Just before class started, Aziraphale was pleasantly surprised when Crowley walked into the library. He hadn’t expected him to show up to something like a knitting class, but he was glad for it anyway.

“Angel, I figured you’d be here.”

“Figured? Did you just show up and hope that I would be working tonight?” Aziraphale smiled a little as he watched a mixture of expressions fall over Crowley’s face. 

“Nah, just um. Just came for the class. Thought maybe I should have a hobby that doesn’t include playing on my phone. You’re just an added bonus.” Aziraphale smiled a little at that compliment. “So, are you teaching the class tonight?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m probably a rubbish teacher.”

“I doubt that.” Crowley spoke so sincerely it surprised Aziraphale. “I’m sure you’d be a great teacher.”

“Thank you for your vote of confidence, but I’m sure you’ll learn plenty from Tracy.”

Before Aziraphale could say anything else, Tracy invited everyone to take a seat so the class could begin. 

This class proved to be a great deal more involved then the previous classes he had been at. With so many people filling the room, several of which had never even held a pair of knitting needles in their life, meant that Aziraphale was stopping to check in with nearly every person to help them follow along with Tracy. To her credit, Tracy was an excellent teacher. She knew the most important places to stop, when to repeat instructions, and how to describe her actions so everyone could copy what she was doing. Nonetheless, Aziraphale still wandered the room and helped when people were lost, or didn’t know how to fix whatever mistake they made. 

Almost a half hour into this class Aziraphale looked over to see Crowley concentrating on following the directions, moving his needles in the same way that Tracy had shown. The scrunched up expression on his face, as he watched the yarn square grow by another row, was surprisingly adorable. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley knew his tongue was poking out of his mouth, but then he noticed that someone a few seats to Crowley's left was struggling, so he walked over to help. 

“Oh, wow,” Aziraphale heard a woman exhale to his right, although she was trying to keep her voice down, so as to not speak over Tracy. “You are really good at this.”

“Hm?” Crowley said. Aziraphale looked up to see the woman next to Crowley leaning over to see his project thus far. “Not really, just good at following instructions.”

“You seem familiar.” She looked at Crowley for a moment before her face lit up in recognition. “You read on Saturdays, don’t you? I knew it, my kids love you!”

Crowley made a series of incoherent noises that could have possibly meant ‘thank you’, but Aziraphale couldn’t be certain. He wasn’t certain why he felt a sharp stab of irritation as the woman prattled on about which stories she had particularly enjoyed when Crowley read, all the while leaning closer and closer. And really, there was no need for that loud of a laugh when Crowley made some type of joke. 

Tracy tried her best to redirect the attention back to her to explain how to fix a mistake that one of the participants had made in class, but it was of little use. As soon she was finished, the woman picked up on the conversation as if she hadn’t stopped.

The one thing that really seemed to get under Aziraphale’s skin was when this woman said something that must have been a joke and bumped shoulders with Crowley. That was certainly too familiar of an action for a stranger. Aziraphale hadn’t known Crowley for long, though they had had a lot of conversations, but even he wouldn’t dare do something so out of line. Someone should definitely go over and put an end to this nonsense.

A surge of protectiveness washed over Aziraphale. Would Crowley perceive it as too bothersome if he stepped in? But he didn’t look bothered by her. Perhaps Aziraphale was being irrational again. After all, Crowley was free to talk with whomever he wanted, he didn’t really need anyone to come save him. In fact, he actually looked quite happy.

“Angel, I need help.” Crowley called out when Aziraphale turned to walk away. He looked up to see the red string that Crowley had been knitting with somehow tangled and wrapped itself around Crowley’s fingers.

“What on Earth did you do?” Aziraphale tutted disapprovingly before making his way over to Crowley.

“Dunno, wasn’t paying attention.” He held up his hands with a sheepish smile on his face. “It got all… tangly and I dropped one of the sticks.” 

“Needles. They are called needles not sticks.” Aziraphale proceeded to pick up the item and was trying to figure out how to untangle the red string from between Crowley’s fingers, trying very hard to concentrate as his own fingers brushed against Crowley’s hands. 

“They can be called whatever, but they hurt when you poke yourself with them.”

“They don’t even have much of a point.”

“Still hurts though.” 

“Alright, lesson one.” He took the empty seat next to Crowley and placed the abandoned needle back into his hand, as he finished straightening the pieces coiled around Crowley’s hands. “Don’t wrap your fingers in the yarn and don’t poke yourself with the needles.” 

Very carefully, he helped Crowley reposition the needles so he could continue where he left off. Luckily, the incident happened when he finished a row so the needle that was dropped didn’t have any stitching on it at the time. Although he didn’t really need to, Aziraphale spent a minute or two helping guide Crowley’s hands with his knitting. 

“See, I knew you’d be a great teacher.” Crowley’s voice broke through the comfortable silence.

He looked up at Crowley, only now realizing how close they were sitting to each other. The ever present sunglasses that covered Crowley’s eyes slipped just enough to give a hint of honey golden colour, and Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to remove them and look into his eyes properly. The soft smile on Crowley’s face made Aziraphale feel like there was no one else in the room. Time seemed to freeze and all he could do was concentrate on the warmth of Crowley’s hands resting against his own and the tender look in his eyes, even if they were barely visible above the glasses. With such little distance between the two would be so easy to just lean forward and-

Without warning, Tracy made an announcement to the class and time resumed once more. It took just a fraction of a moment where Aziraphale realized what temptations whispered in his mind before guilt writhed in the pit of his stomach. He quickly pulled his hands away from Crowley’s. What on Earth had possibly possessed him to think that this was acceptable behavior, especially when he was getting upset with the shoulder bump incident from earlier. 

“You made me drop a stitch.” Crowley complained.

“I did no such thing!” Aziraphale protested, trying to rid his mind of the previous thoughts. “Perhaps you just have butter fingers or something?”

“Compliments will get you nowhere.” The teasing hint of Crowley’s voice helped to bring Aziraphale back into familiar territory. Perhaps Crowley didn’t pick up on the inner workings of Aziraphale’s mind. Thank goodness for that.

“Compliments?”

“Saying my hands are soft and smooth like butter.” He smiled playfully and readjusted his glasses back to ensure his eyes were properly covered.

Aziraphale huffed, “If that is how you choose to interpret it. Although how do you know the term ‘dropping a stitch’ but not needles?”

“‘Cause I paid attention, angel.” 

“Literally the first thing Tracy did was introduce the needles.”

“‘S not important.”

“Of course it is important.” Aziraphale shook his head in frustration. 

“Oh, you two are very adorable,” the woman seated next to Crowley said. “How long have you been together?”

“What?” Surprise was evident in Crowley’s voice.

“We’re not,” Aziraphale said. “Together, I mean. We aren’t.”

“Right, just…” Crowley looked at him hopefully. “Friends?”

“Yes, friends.” Aziraphale agreed and they shared a brief smile.

“Oh, so you’re single?” The woman continued, all her attention focused solely on Crowley. Aziraphale’s smile dropped instantly. 

“Er,” Crowley looked from her to Aziraphale. “Yeah, suppose I am.” 

With that, Aziraphale didn’t want to stick around much longer to hear where that conversation was going. Instead he excused himself and went to help others in the class. It had been such a long time since anyone had wanted to be his friend. Outside of Tracy and Anathema, he didn’t have anyone else. Some of his old relationships had blossomed from a friendship, but eventually they all had gotten bored of Aziraphale and left. It was nice knowing that Crowley thought of him as a friend, and perhaps they would have the opportunity to spend time together as friends.

The rest of the class passed by quickly, and Aziraphale tried his best to avoid Crowley the remainder of the night. Once class was dismissed and everyone left, which included Crowley, Tracy and he got to work cleaning the place up.

They both walked out with armfuls of supplies and placed them in an old storage room they had in the back of the library for the class next week. Tracy was asking about Aziraphale’s shop and they were happily chatting as they went to exit the Library.

Aziraphale stopped in his tracks when he saw Crowley waiting on a seat just by the doors. He was absorbed by his phone and didn’t notice the pair.

“Crowley?” He directed the question at Tracy, even though his eyes remained on Crowley. “I thought he had left.”

“You mean Anthony?” Tracy asked. “Such a sweet young man he is. Besides you, he’s been one of our most consistent volunteers.”

“Anthony?” Aziraphale shot her a confused look. 

“Anthony, sweetheart,” Tracy called out and Crowley looked up instantly. Even though it was Tracy who called his name, Crowley smiled at Aziraphale. “What are you still doing here?”

“What’da mean?” He hugged Tracy and placed a small friendly kiss on her cheek. “Aziraphale didn’t tell you? I’m his ride.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“I didn’t know.” Aziraphale found his voice again. “I thought that was just the past couple of times. I didn’t know it was extended to tonight, as well.”

“‘Course angel.” Crowley looked a little nervous. “I’d always give you a ride, anytime you need one.”

The way Crowley looked at him, as if nothing else in the world mattered, made Aziraphale feel like he was floating. His heart beat painfully in his chest, but he didn’t want the feeling to stop. 

Aziraphale was trying to stay focused and not let his mind think too much about how he really wanted to crowd into Crowley’s space and kiss him. All of those thoughts had to be banished. They just established that they were friends, there was no reason to damage such a new development with feelings that could very well not be reciprocated. Aziraphale had to stop misinterpreting his actions for anything more than kindness. 

The fact that he waited for Aziraphale to finish to drive him home only showed the extent of his kindness.

“I think I would like to go home.” Aziraphale admitted, the tiredness creeping into his voice. He still hadn’t been getting a lot of sleeps the past few nights.

“Sure thing,” Crowley smirked a little. “I’d love to go home with you.”

Aziraphale shot him a withering look, although he knew it fell short and probably was closer to annoyed. There really was no need to phrase it like that. 

Tracy snorted a laugh and led the three of them out, pausing long enough to lock the doors. 

“Well, gentlemen,” Tracy said as the loud honking of a car horn got their attention. Tracy’s husband threw them an impatient look, urging his wife to hurry up. “I’m off, but I’ll be seeing you both soon. Don’t do anything I wouldn't do.” She called over her shoulder.

“That doesn’t really limit much,” Crowley called back before turning to Aziraphale. “Shall we?”

They got into the Bentley and Crowley sped off down the street. Aziraphale allowed a few minutes of silence between the two, debating if he should ask about the name or wait until Crowley felt a little more comfortable with him to divulge that information. 

Eventually his curiosity won out. “Anthony?”

Crowley shot him a glance before turning his attention back to the road. “S’my name.” 

“Oh, you see, I was a little confused since you introduced yourself as Crowley and I thought that was your first name.” Crowley just shrugged, but didn’t offer an explanation. “Perhaps you thought you were too cool for a first name.”

“Yup, had a meeting about it last week at the cool club,” he teased Aziraphale. “All voted that we’d be infinitely cooler going by surnames.”

“Did someone make a mistake then? Letting you in.”

“Oi. I’m plenty cool, angel.”

“Whatever you say,” Aziraphale teased back. “So where does your club stand with middle names?”

“Only one letter, much more interesting that way.”

“So then what’s yours?”

“J.” This was probably the most personal information that Crowley had offered and Aziraphale appreciated that he was willing to share. Just like the last few times, Crowley parked in front of the shop, but Aziraphale didn’t make any movements to leave. He wanted to try and steal a little bit more time before heading inside.

“Anthony J. Crowley,” he tested the full name out loud. 

When he looked over at Crowley, he could see the slight uptick of a smile. It was something so small, yet was filled with‒- Aziraphale hoped‒ such immense joy. The faint light from the streetlights illuminated that smile in a way that made Aziraphale’s heart skip a beat. Those tempting thoughts filled his mind again, urging him to reach out and brush his fingers against his cheek. Slowly guiding Crowley to lean closer until their lips could meet in a tender kiss.

“Don’t like it?” Crowley’s voice broke through those thoughts, and Aziraphale fought a blush trying to take over his face. 

“No, I didn’t say that. I think it suits you well.” Azirphale could see the smallest sigh of relief coming from Crowley, as if he was actually worried that Aziraphale would disapprove of anything related to him. “I could still call you Crowley though, if you prefer.”

“Thanks, and if I’m giving my name, then it's only fair that you share yours.”

“I thought you would have figured it out, it's on the sign for my shop.” 

“Fell? Really?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Aziraphale Fell is your full name? Did your parents want to make your life difficult?”

Aziraphale’s laugh was a bit strained, recalling his childhood and how many times he had to explain his name. “Apparently so. My family is very religious.” He pushed away the negative thoughts that tended to surround his family. It wasn’t that they were cruel or made him feel unwanted, it was mostly that they were absent. He would occasionally get a text from his siblings or mother for his birthday or holidays, but over the years they only grew more apart. “Anyway, my name may be a little-” 

“I think it suits you.” Crowley spoke in a hushed toned that seemed to echo in the quietness of the parked car. “Your name. It's unique and… It’s just you. I like it.” Without thinking, Azirphale reached out and placed his hand on Crowley’s which sat on the gear shift.

“Thank you.” 

When Aziraphale looked up, he wasn’t entirely certain that Crowley was even breathing. He was completely frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. Perhaps this was overstepping too much. Very carefully, and slowly as not to spook the man, Aziraphale pulled his hand back into his lap. 

“Sorry, I just.” Aziraphale looked down at his hands. “Not many people like my name. Perhaps I got a bit too carried away.”

“Aziraphale.” He snapped his head up to see Crowley watching his own fingers tap nervously on the steering wheel. “I…”

Again Aziraphale wanted to reach out to him, placing his hand over Crowley’s to help calm him down. Of course that wouldn’t work. The way he froze and tensed up earlier showed he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Aziraphale casually touching him. Instead and kept his hands firmly clasped in his lap.

“Yes?” 

Everything stilled for a moment. Crowley stopped drumming and looked over, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. Aziraphale felt something when he looked at Crowley. Just a little spark ignited in the privacy of the car, although he couldn’t put a name to it.

“Would you- I mean.” Crowley shifted in his seat. Suddenly it felt like the car had gotten smaller. The spark that Aziraphale felt, prickled in the air causing the temperature in the enclosed space to rise. Aziraphale had the thought to remove his jacket in an attempt to cool off, but thought better of it. “Would… it be okay if I still called you angel?” 

“Oh.” The temperature returned to normal, and the car felt like the right size again. For a moment, Aziraphale was surprised. If he was being honest, that was not the type of question he thought would be asked. But again, he had been having his ridiculous thoughts all evening now, so of course he’d probably read more into the conversation than Crowley had actually meant. “Oh, of course! If I really had an issue with it, I would have made my feelings on it perfectly clear.”

“Good,” Crowley breathed out, sounding relieved. Although his shoulders did slump slightly, like he regretted something. “Um, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, of course.” He smiled slightly. “Right, well. Goodnight.” 

Before Crowley could say anything else, Aziraphale slipped out the door and retreated back into his shop. As soon as the door was closed, Aziraphale leaned against it and buried his face in his hands. He must have made a fool of himself in the car, reading something that clearly wasn’t there. All those thoughts he had earlier were just plain idiotic. Crowley was only interested in being friends, he had said as much at the class tonight, and allowing his mind to be consumed with wishes and fantasies would help no one. 

He was Crowley’s friend and he had to be content with that. 

With a heavy sigh, he walked into the backroom of his shop. Perhaps reading a few chapters of a book would do him good. When he finally settled into his old armchair, he allowed himself to replay those fantasies one last time before locking them up in the back of his mind and throwing away the key. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely comments!
> 
> Just to let you know, this was probably my favorite chapter to write.

The next few weeks fell into a comfortable pattern. Crowley would show up to the classes not just to participate but help as well. Anything that was needed, Crowley would jump to volunteer his assistance. Not just with Aziraphale, he would help Anathema and Tracy just as much. So much so that Anathema had even jokingly remarked how she might have to swap out Aziraphale for Crowley to help with the classes. There was some light teasing between them and a joke made about how Crowley had never been a teacher’s pet before.

Then he would give Aziraphale a lift home. Those quiet moments in the car were some of Aziraphale’s favorites, even if they were accompanied by some truly remarkable horrific driving. In those times he got to know Crowley a little better, learned about some of his favorite movies, the couple of books he did enjoy, and what restaurants he tended to frequent. 

Most of all, Aziraphale enjoyed how much he listened. It had been years since someone was genuinely interested in anything he had to say. He appreciated how much Crowley listened to everything Aziraphale said, even if it was just going on about a particular book he read or the best crepes he had ever had. It made Aziraphale feel important, something he hadn’t realised was missing in his life. 

On the other side, getting Crowley to talk was sometimes like pulling teeth. For someone so flash and charming, he was rather closed off. Crowley still hadn’t opened up about what his job was and how it led him to volunteer at the library, even though Aziraphale tried to bring it up a few times.

Saturdays were still Crowley’s reading days. He would usually arrive dressed in something flashy and Aziraphale would bite back his comments every time. Although he would allow a few good-natured barbs about Crowley’s choice in fashion, and literature, which were still not appropriate for volunteering at a library. 

Once they both were settled nicely in their routine, Tracy had accidentally upturned everything when she told Aziraphale that classes on Wednesdays would be changed. Apparently Anathema was no longer available on Wednesdays. At first, Aziraphale thought that classes would be canceled, which he didn’t want to happen since that would mean one less day he could see Crowley. Then she said that Shadwell had volunteered to take over on Wednesdays. 

That sounded like the worst possible idea, but Aziraphale didn’t know how to voice that concern. Instead he just smiled awkwardly and said he would be there to help. 

Aziraphale took a deep breath to calm his nerves for the first class, but there was still that nagging thought in back of his mind that something was bound to go wrong. It had taken some time after becoming friends with Tracy before he finally met her husband. The night he came over for dinner, Shadwell had insulted him in more ways than he could count. He was a gruff man who wasn’t graced with a filter between his brain and his mouth. Every and any thought and belittling comment that popped into his head had to be spoken aloud instantly. It took some time for Aziraphale to figure out that he wasn’t nearly as bad as he seemed. Either that or Aziraphale was getting better at ignoring the man. 

“Al’righ, yu’r here ta help me?” Shadwell asked the moment Aziraphale walked into the room.

“Yes, I am your help today,” Aziraphale nodded. “And thank you for volunteering, I know it means-”

“Don’ thank me yet, laddie.” Shadwell used one finger to point at him. “I’ll ‘ave you workin’ ta th’ bone. Now, move th’ tables.”

“Move?” He looked at the large tables scattered around the room. 

“Aye. Move ‘em!” Shadwell didn’t quite growl, it was just a slightly louder version of his normal voice. 

Aziraphale scrambled quickly to move the heavy tables out of the way. After just a few minutes working, Aziraphale noted that the room was unbearably warm, so he shed his jacket, placing it carefully on a nearby chair, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. He was also being very careful not to give any evidence to Shadwell how tiring this was and how out of shape he was.

Once there was enough open space, Shadwell rolled out a few thin mats that he must have brought from home. Although there was an old storage room in the back, perhaps he could have found them there, but that seemed unlikely since hardly anyone had been back there in his tenure with the library. Perhaps he could have Anathema help him clean it out and take inventory, especially if they were going to add more classes.

The participants trickled into the class. Apparently they must have advertised the change in class well enough since they were all dressed appropriately for this activity. Well, everyone except Crowley.

When Aziraphale finally spotted him, Crowley was staring in surprise. His face was various shades of red.

“Uh,” he said eloquently. “Angel, you are… That look is a bit, er, risqué.”

Aziraphale looked down at himself, he was in his usual button down shirt and waistcoat. The only thing missing was his jacket.

“You’re one to talk. Or should we discuss your leather trousers?”

Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it closed. 

“Didn’t think you’d notice,” he mumbled quiet enough that Aziraphale barely heard him. Before Aziraphale could say anything he resumed his normal tone of voice. “Anyway, I’m here for the class.” 

“This class?” Aziraphale asked and Crowley just nodded in response. “The one that has changed?”

“Erm. Yes?”

“You’re here for the… women's self defense class?”

Aziraphale could practically hear the gears in Crowley’s mind screeching to a halt.

“Ah, yeah. Told Tracy I would help with the, um, volunteer...ing.”

“Wat’s this?” When had Shadwell materialized next to them? For someone who was naturally tumultuous, he could be fairly quiet when he wanted to be. “Din’t ‘no there were more to help.”

“Oh yes. ‘S what I do, helping.”

“Good! I was worried this ‘ne be too soft ta throw ‘round.” He pointed at Aziraphale before turning to Crowley. Shadwell shrugged. “A wee bit skinnae, I may break ya in half but yer’ll do.” 

“What?” Crowley looked at Aziraphale with horror etched onto his face as Shadwell fisted a handful of jacket and dragged him into the center of the room. Aziraphale gave him an encouraging smile, very grateful it was not him in that position. 

“Listen up!” Shadwell stood menacingly in the center of the room, the participants gathered around the edges of the mat. Except for Crowley who stood next to Shadwell, looking uncomfortable. He kept glancing back at Aziraphale with a confused expression on his face.

Within the next few minutes Shadwell gave his instructions, as best as possible, but it seemed like most participants were having trouble understanding what was actually being said. That was when Shadwell decided it was time for a demonstration. 

Without warning, Shadwell elbowed Crowley in the stomach causing him to double over and used that momentum to throw him onto his back on the floor. Aziraphale winced at the thud, that must have hurt and Shadwell didn’t properly prepare since he had left Crowley without any protective equipment. Clearly those mats were not made for this type of activity and barely were serving as any type of cushion against the ground. He needed to say something to help the poor man. Crowley just remained on the floor as Shadwell continued to talk. 

Aziraphale walked over and extended a hand to help Crowley up. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, perfectly fine for being tossed around like a rag doll.” He groaned as he got to his feet. 

“I don’t think Shadwell thought this class through. I can call it off. It’s not fair to you to have to deal with this abuse.”

“Are you here to rescue me, angel?” Crowley had a coy smile and one eyebrow arched above his glasses.

“Well, you do make a lovely damsel in distress.” Aziraphale teased back and was rewarded with just the smallest tinge of pink rise up across Crowley’s nose.

“Aren’t you just my knight in shining armour.” 

Although it was obvious that Crowley was just playing along, there was something about his smile that made Aziraphale feel like he actually meant those words. As if Aziraphale was actually riding in heroically to save Crowley from some beast that held him captive. But that was just silly; between the two of them Crowley would be the knight. He was certainly charming enough for it, and much braver than Aziraphale given that he actually volunteered to be the practice dummy for this class.

“Let me talk to Shadwell.” Before Crowley could say another word, he walked over and waited for Shadwell to be finished speaking. “Excuse me.” 

“Huh? Wassit?” Shadwell barked back. “Why‘re you interruptin’?”

“Well you see, I figured since Crowley doesn’t have any protective equipment on, you may want to reconsider how he could best help the class.”

“Reconsider?” Shadwell echoed the words as if Aziraphale had spoken another language and he couldn’t process what was happening. “Wat? Afraid he’ll be hurt by a bunch of girls?”

“I hardly think gender has anything to do with it.” Aziraphale snapped back. “I just do not wish for Crowley to be hurt during this class. Accidents happen.” 

“Aye, accidents happen. That’s why these ladies need be ready!” Shadwell waved him off and turned back to the participants. Aziraphale walked back to Crowley in defeat, so much for being the heroic knight.

“Who let this mad man be in charge?” Crowley hissed trying not to draw attention to himself.

“He’s Tracy’s husband.”

“He’s a lunatic, is what he is.” 

Aziraphale laughed. Yes, Shadwell was an abrasive individual. But he cared for Tracy, and had wanted to help her in the only way he knew was possible. Deep down, he was a good person. You just had to dig through several layers of aggression, chauvinism, and probably early onset diabetes. But he really could be kind, sometimes.

“Now!” Shadwell’s voice had echoed in the room. “Yu’ll all ‘ave ta practice.” 

“Let me try a different tactic.” Aziraphale whispered to Crowley, counting the participants. There only seemed to be about ten, which wasn’t terribly big for the class but still enough to do damage if Crowley was supposed to be the practice dummy..

“You know, Mr Shadwell,” Aziraphale tried to bring up a reasonable argument, doubtful if it would actually work. “Crowley is generous enough to volunteer to help, but you can’t possibly expect him to be thrown to the ground by everyone?”

“Right.” Crowley nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll need a partner at least!”

“What?” Aziraphale whipped his head back to see the troublesome grin that Crowley was sporting. This was certainly not what he had in mind when he wanted to try a new tactic.

“Good idea!” Shadwell agreed all too quickly. “Did’t think yu’d ‘ave it in ya, but aye we could use ya.”

“I beg your pardon?” Aziraphale did not like where this conversation was going.

“Right, Aziraphale and I are here to help. Do your worst.” 

Crowley leaned in close enough to Aziraphale for their shoulders to brush, just enough to feel a little bit of heat radiating off him which was amplified since Aziraphale was still without his jacket. It should not have felt as indecent as it did, barely touching shoulders but Aziraphale felt like he was exposed in front of everyone. That they would be able to read his face and see how much he yearned to lean in further, possibly even rest his head against Crowley’s shoulder. But that was ridiculous, and he already had to have a talk with himself earlier this week regarding these silly fantasies about Crowley.

“Crowley!” He pushed his thoughts from his mind and turned to face Crowley, leveling him with a look that‒ he hoped ‒ showed that he in no way would ever agree to such a thing. “I will take no part in-” 

“You know what they say angel, misery loves company. Keep me company?”

“I,” Aziraphale said, but seeing the look on Crowley’s face made any protest he could have come up with die. He relented with a sigh. “Of course. You know I wouldn’t just leave you alone. Although you might want to lose the sunglasses, lest they break.”

Crowley hesitated for a moment before depositing his glasses on a nearby table. When he came back to Aziraphale’s side, he didn’t quite look him in the eye. The realization that this was the first time that Aziraphale could actually see those eyes dawned on him. He wasn’t sure why Crowley kept his eyes hidden, but now he felt terrible for suggesting that.

Before Aziraphale had a chance to look at his eyes, Shadwell shouted at the class.

After that, it was one of the longest hours Aziraphale had ever experienced in his life. Both himself and Crowley were used as literal punching bags for the class, and it seemed like Shadwell may have been encouraging the participants to use a little more force than necessary. His rationale behind it was that an attacker wasn’t going to go easy, so why should they?

Throughout the class, Aziraphale kept trying to look at Crowley. Just to make sure it was still okay, after all they were suffering together so why not extend an olive branch. But everytime that Aziraphale looked over, Crowley was in the middle of a demonstration, or he was helping one of the participants get her footwork just right, or even‒ on more than one occasion‒ just refusing to look at him. He wasn’t sure why, but it felt like he had done something wrong. Hopefully he could get a chance to talk with Crowley after class.

When the participants left at the end, Aziraphale could do nothing more than slump into a nearby chair in defeat. He had aches and pains in places he hadn’t felt in years. Crowley wasn’t doing any better either, apparently his new spot was laying on the floor staring at the ceiling and grumbling loudly over this unfair treatment.

There was a smattering of whispers and giggling coming from most of the women in the group as they exited. A few of them did try and get Crowley’s attention throughout the night, but none were very successful. Aziraphale was actually proud of himself that whenever a particular woman got a little too flirtatious with Crowley, he would simply point out to Shadwell how they may not be taking the class seriously. Shadwell resolved any issues rather effectively, although the name calling may have been a tad over the line.

Once everyone had left, Aziraphale got to work putting everything back to its proper place. Though he did work at a much slower pace since the soreness in his arms made it difficult to move the tables. Without being asked, Crowley put his sunglasses back on and got up to help. The pair worked quickly to restore everything back to normal. Aziraphale had convinced Shadwell that he would lock up and ushered him out the door as fast as possible, leaving just the two of them to clean up.

“I don’t think my head has hurt this much in a long time.” Aziraphale rubbed a soft spot on his head. No doubt there would be a bruise or even a bump for the next few days. 

“I think I’ve got a black eye,” Crowley replied.

“There should be an ice pack or two in the breakroom.” Aziraphale gestured towards the back. It should be alright to stay for a few minutes longer, just to lick their wounds, so to speak.

When they reached the room, Aziraphale pulled out two ice packs and held one out to Crowley. They were the gel kind, all soft and cold and perfect for healing aches and scrapes. Aziraphale put his on the particularly tender spot on the back of his head; he must have bumped it particularly hard at some point, although he wouldn’t be able to identify which one was the cause, all the hits and kicks were blending together. 

Crowley, on the other hand, just held the pack in his hand almost as if he was debating something. He must have come to some sort of conclusion since he quickly removed his sunglasses and placed the pack over one eye.

When Crowley looked up, Aziraphale could finally see what he only caught glimpses of before. It was a warm honey gold that reminded him of pieces of amber that he'd found a few years ago in a farmer's market. Always fascinated in the way the light caught and shone through, illuminating it in varying shades of gold, orange, and brown. They would always be warm as well, as Aziraphale trailed a finger across the glassy smooth surface, probably leftover heat from the sunshine. Crowley’s eye looked like one of the most gorgeous pieces of amber he had ever seen, and wondered what it would look like in the sunlight, would it also change colour? Would it hold the warmth and glow of the sunlight? 

“Crowley, you have such a lovely eye colour! Why do you insist on hiding behind those glasses?”

“Ngk.” Crowley’s gaze fell to the floor so Aziraphale couldn’t see them again. “Reasons, angel.” 

For the second time, Aziraphale felt like he had just overstepped. Obviously there was a reason Crowley wore those glasses, and Aziraphale had no right to ask about them. He wouldn’t be surprised if Crowley wanted to call it a night and leave after that careless question. 

“I have a…” Crowley sighed almost as if he was trying to gather strength. Aziraphale wanted to stop him. There was really no need for him to open up and try and share something that was obviously making him uncomfortable, but when he opened his mouth Crowley cut him off. “It’s an eye condition. Nothing bad, but makes some people uncomfortable so I like to wear my glasses. It’s no big deal.” 

“Oh. Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale clasped his hands together, the ice pack sandwiched between and making his fingers cold. “You didn't have to... thank you, for telling me.”

When Crowley looked back up to give him a small smile, Aziraphale couldn’t see what he was talking about earlier. His visible eye was beautiful and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong. At least nothing that should be covered up by glasses.

“It’s called heterochromia.” It seemed that Crowley was determined to explain everything. “It's when you have two different coloured eyes. Only mine’s a partial, it's almost normal, but there are other colors in there too.” 

Crowley slowly removed the ice pack to reveal his other eye. Something Aziraphale was not prepared to actually happen. It was one thing to talk about it, but for Crowley to actually be willing to share this? It was too much for Aziraphale, he wanted to tell Crowley to stop, that it wasn’t needed if he didn’t feel comfortable. But the ice pack was already gone and Aziraphale stared into Crowley’s eyes unblinking. 

Aziraphale remembered when he was a child seeing books about space, they were always a bit fuzzy and usually black and white. Then the Hubble Space Telescope was launched and for the first time in history, humans got to see what was beyond their small field of vision around Earth. He remembered seeing pictures of some of the most beautiful nebulas, and stars, and galaxies. Each was named in some way that corresponded to its appearance. One of Aziraphale’s favorite pictures was of the crab nebula, a dying remnant of a supernova that had gone out long ago and the effect could still be seen. A swirling cloud of dust and debris that was the most beautiful collection of green, gold, blue, and black. Something that was indescribably breathtaking and humbling all at once. 

That was what Crowley’s eye looked like. Golden brown on the edges and a vortex of blues and greens towards the center. Aziraphale couldn’t help but gasp slightly. 

“Oh, they look absolutely exquisite,” he said softly, not wanting to spook Crowley who was looking more and more skittish by the second.

Crowley fiddled with the ice pack in his hands. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled so quietly that Aziraphale almost missed it. Silence fell between them for a while and it didn’t feel heavy or oppressive, instead it draped comfortably over them. “So, which of the women tonight do you think is going to send in a complaint first?”

That startled a laugh from Aziraphale as he shifted the ice pack a bit. “Hard to say. I think Mr. Shadwell insulted them all at some point tonight.”

“My money’s on the one in the halter top that he called a harlot.” 

“It’ll probably be the blonde that he said was too old to have to worry about anyone going after her.”

Aziraphale listened to the rich sound of Crowley’s laugh filling the small room.

“I doubt Shadwell will be allowed to teach another class,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sure no one will be coming back after tonight.”

“Probably not. At least they can defend themselves from, what did he say? Men who seduce women to do their evil will. Is that what you do in your bookshop?”

“Ah yes, you’ve caught me. The great seducer of women.” Aziraphale shook his head, but smiled anyway.

“I knew it, probably got loads of ‘em coming to your shop at all hours.” 

“Sadly it’s just me in that old shop.”

“So.” Crowley sounded slightly hesitant before continuing. “I won’t have to worry about a girlfriend getting upset that I’m keeping you out late?” 

Aziraphale just shot him a flat stare.

“Or boyfriend?” he tacked on quickly.

“No, unfortunately, I haven’t had one in a long time. I’m all alone.”

“Good.” Aziraphale raised his eyebrows as Crowley rambled on. “Well, I mean, not good that you’re alone. But, like, good that I, uhh, won’t get you in trouble.”

Aziraphale thought it was quite adorable the way Crowley got flustered every time he thought he put his foot in his mouth. Although he did wonder if Crowley acted this way around everyone. As far as he could recall, he always seemed so suave and collected around others. What was it exactly about Aziraphale that made him get flustered so easily? Perhaps it was just that Crowley didn’t make new friends often and was unsure how to act. That had to have been it.

“Even though I won’t be getting in trouble, I should probably still go home.”

“Right.” Crowley grabbed both ice packs and placed them back in the freezer. “Let’s lock up and I’ll get you home angel.”

“Thank you.” When Crowley scrunched his eyebrows in confusion, Aziraphale added, “for everything. The rides, volunteering, and for being so open with me. I truly appreciate it.”

Crowley’s eyes met Aziraphale’s, and again that spark he felt last night came back. The way Crowley was looking at him was just too much, as if he had just recited terrible poetry declaring his love. Not that Aziraphale would do that, mind you. He hardly knew the other man, after all. They had spent some wonderful time together restocking the shelves of the library or driving back to his bookshop, and getting to know each other. 

Yes, he could admit that Crowley was a very handsome individual with a smile that always made Aziraphale's stomach flip nervously. He would have to be delusional to convince himself he wasn’t somewhat attracted to Crowley.

Of course he knew it was a one sided attraction. Every sweet gesture or act that made Aziraphale feel like there could be something more between them was just simply because Crowley was such a kind person. There were several instances where he saw Crowley’s kindness, mostly with his patience and encouragement with the kids of the reading circle. Aziraphale needed to remind himself not to confuse compassion with attraction. 

Even if they attempted something, Aziraphale didn’t think he would be able to keep up with someone as extravagant as Crowley. He probably enjoyed things like rock concerts or clubs while Aziraphale preferred a quiet night in with his favourite novel and a glass of wine. It would never work between them. Crowley was just too… fast.

“We best be off.” Aziraphale could feel his own smile falter, as if those thoughts were seeping through to his expression. He tried his best to rein in his emotions, but Crowley must have noticed.

In a matter of seconds, Crowley dropped his gaze and put his sunglasses back on.

“‘Course angel. Ready to go?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for much for the comments and kudos! I hope you enjoy this next chapter.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Aziraphale felt as if he got less sleep than usual and was taking it out on others. Anathema was the first to notice when he snapped at a patron after being asked a relatively simple question. In his defense though, Aziraphale pointed out it would be nearly impossible to find a book that you didn’t know the name of nor the author and the only piece of information you had was that the cover was blue.

She led him into the reading room and instructed him to sit in one of the bean bag chairs before disappearing. Aziraphale adjusted in the chair. He never actually sat in one of these before and while it had the potential to be comfortable, Aziraphale couldn’t get himself to relax and enjoy the seat. It took a lot of wriggling before he sank just enough for it to mould into something just a touch more plush. Although he wasn’t sure how he would be able to get out of it on his own. 

Luckily, Anathema returned with his tartan thermos from the break room. She was kind enough to refill it with the tea they had in stock.

“Aziraphale, this has been going on for a while now, I let it go before but now I can’t. What is wrong?”

“Sorry. I just.” He sighed and took a sip of the hot chamomile. The way Anathema was staring at him made Aziraphale feel like he was under a microscope. It was almost as if trying to read his mind, or perhaps his aura since she was always adamant that she could, even though Aziraphale didn’t believe in such a thing. “I haven’t been sleeping well, but that is no excuse to get upset with others. I apologise.”

“Don’t need to apologise to me. But maybe you should just stay in here and relax for a bit, at least until the reading session. Okay?” She placed a book on the floor next to his chair, just within reach. 

“Of course, thank you for looking after me.” Aziraphale gave her a kind smile and she patted his arm in sympathy before leaving. 

The room had an easy stillness to it for a while. Aziraphale simply relaxed as best as possible into the beanbag chair and sipped his tea, allowing his mind to wonder a bit. There was a brief thought that maybe he was getting too old to be splitting his time between work and volunteering, never really taking a moment for himself. That could really be the root of his insomnia. After all, this had only started about two years ago, and maybe it was time to focus on himself a bit. But he couldn’t do that to Tracy. Volunteers came and went rather quickly; he couldn’t stand the idea to be one of those. 

Slowly, the room filled with children and their parents in anticipation for the reading circle. A few of them glanced at him questioningly. Obviously it was a little strange for someone to be there without kids of their own, but Aziraphale wasn’t planning on staying long. Just as soon he finished the tea and gathered enough strength to lift himself out of the chair, he would leave. For now though, he picked up the copy of Don Quixote and focused on the book rather than the noises of the room.

“I didn’t expect you to be waiting in here for me.” Crowley’s voice cut through his concentration on the book, he placed it down to greet Crowley.

“Oh, hel-” Aziraphale’s mouth instantly went dry when he looked at Crowley. He wasn’t sure what surprised him more, the fact that Crowley was actually wearing tartan or the fact that he was wearing a kilt. 

The outfit itself complimented Crowley so well, the pattern was a darker shade than he would have expected with plenty of black and red but it matched his usual black jacket and shirt. Aziraphale couldn't help but let his eyes drag up the exceedingly long legs that were more visible than they had ever been before even with the knee high socks on to match.

Honestly, if he didn't already have a ridiculous crush on this equally ridiculous man, he'd have developed one in that instant.

“Wha-” Even Aziraphale could hear the strain in his voice. “What are you wearing?”

Crowley looked down at himself. “Whadya mean? It’s a kilt. You do know what a kilt is, right?”

“Yes, I know what.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose taking a moment to steady himself. “What I meant to say is, why are you wearing a kilt?”

“Thought I’d try something new, reading folktales. A couple from different countries, starting with Scotland and figured I could break out my kilt. It’s completely authentic, y’know.” 

Aziraphale tried very hard not to think about what authentic meant. Well, more specifically, he tried very hard not to think about what was  _ not _ worn underneath to make it a truly authentic kilt.

“I see.” Aziraphale took a large gulp of his tea, which hadn’t cooled down much in his thermos and resulted in him nearly burning his tongue trying to distract himself. “I should probably leave you to read.”

“Or you could stay.” There was a nervous energy about him, his voice wasn’t quite steady as normal and his fingers tapped on the book in his hands. “If you want to. Then I can help with your book stuff after.”

Aziraphale smiled softly. “That sounds lovely.”

After all the time they had spent together, Crowley should really know by now that Aziraphale would always agree to stay for him. Simply because he loved that beautiful smile on Crowley’s face and would do almost anything to see it again. 

“Great!” Crowley said, but he seemed to take on a whole new type of nervous energy. “Well, I guess I should get to it then.” 

After that, Crowley got the children settled down on the plush carpet and bean bags while parents took the seats that lined the walls or opted to stand. This was the first time, Aziraphale realised, that he was actually going to listen to Crowley’s reading intentionally.

Crowley knelt on the carpet so he was more or less eye level with the kids and cracked open an old book. Immediately, Aziraphale’s interest peaked. All the times that Crowley had volunteered, he’d pick up a book from the library but this one didn’t look like something they had in stock. He must have brought it in from home. 

The cover was worn down from years of use, and was peeling in some places. He could almost feel an itch in his hands to pick up and hold that book, to restore it to its former beauty.

That was when Crowley took a deep, calming breath, and read.

Aziraphale was woefully unprepared to hear Crowley read with a scottish accent. His voice was calm and soothing, and the accent only seemed to serve as a wonderful melody stringing the words together as if in a grand symphony. No, that wasn’t it. It was more of a duet, the rich timbre of his voice complimenting the rounded words with just a few harsh syllables to contrast. Honestly, Aziraphale could probably listen to him read anything with this accent and would be just as happy as he was now. 

He sank a little deeper into the chair and trained his eyes on Crowley, who was still looking up from time to time to make sure Aziraphale was paying attention. The peacefulness of the reading, which was surprising given how often the children tended to make a ruckus, soothed Aziraphale. He leaned his head on one hand and listened to the stories, although the actual words being said were a little too beyond him right now.

There was a gentle pressure on his arm, and for a little while he fought with himself to place it. Then his eyes flew open and he realised that he had fallen asleep in the bean bag and the pressure was Crowley's palm on his shoulder. The only thing that would have made waking up a more pleasant experience was if he was greeted with seeing Crowley’s eyes without his sunglasses. Ever since Crowley had entrusted him enough to show his eyes, Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to see them again, to see the vortex of colors that seemed to pull him in like a black hole. Impossible to escape from.

Crowley cleared his throat which seemed to echo in the empty room. 

“Sorry to wake you angel. You did look relaxed, but I didn’t want to leave you here alone.”

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep, I’m terribly sorry.” Aziraphale could feel shame rise up. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Crowley didn’t look upset which was a good sign, but Aziraphale still felt bad about it. “Book girl said you were still having trouble sleeping, I’m glad I could help.”

Aziraphale glanced out the window to see Anathema working on checking in the books that he would usually be doing at this time. She really shouldn’t have shared that information with Crowley, but what was done was done.

“Still, that was awfully rude of me to just fall asleep while you were reading.” Aziraphale looked down at his hands which were folded in his lap. “Your voice was just so soothing, I didn’t mean to.” 

Crowley laughed. “Well as long as you don’t make a habit out of it. Can’t really call you every night and read until you fall asleep, ya know.” 

Aziraphale knew he meant it as a joke, he really did. But that did make a really delightful image pop in his mind, them curled up together and Crowley reading in his gentlest voice as Aziraphale snuggled more into him, drifting off to sleep. Or better yet, Crowley’s head resting on his lap as Aziraphale read and dragged his fingers through that red hair. Both of those scenarios sounded so wonderful, but both of those scenarios could never happen. 

He and Crowley were friends. That was it. End of story. 

“Where did you get your book?” Aziraphale needed to shift the conversation in a new direction. One that was much safer and would eliminate any pleasant images from his mind.

“This old thing?” Crowley handed the book over to Aziraphale.

The first thing he noticed was how old it was. The pages were a little fragile and soft from continuous use. The green and gold in the cover was faded and peeling. One of the best scents in the world, in Aziraphale’s opinion, was the smell of an old book. When he opened it, he inhaled deeply and smiled. He loved nothing more than a good old book. 

“Where did you ever find such a book?”

“Just a family thing, I guess.” Crowley shrugged. “Dunno where it came from, got it off my cousin Bee. I think it’s been in the family for a while.”

“Oh, I don’t suppose you’d be willing to sell it then?”

Crowley eyed him suspiciously. “Depends on the price. What are you willing to offer, angel?”

With that, Crowley hooked one foot behind the opposite ankle and leaned closer, chin in the palm of his hand. It didn’t go undetected by Aziraphale that this new shift in position happened to make the kilt ride up a little higher, revealing a little more leg than before. Aziraphale swallowed nervously. For the second time today he really had to refocus his thoughts away from how authentic Crowley was in that kilt.

The book was a safe haven for the sudden restlessness he was feeling. His fingers felt along the spine and the imprinted words on the cover. 

“Well, I would have to do some research on price, but I don’t think I’d feel right purchasing an old family heirloom from you.”

“I’m really not attached to the thing.” Crowley countered, but Aziraphale would hear none of it. 

“No, I cannot do that. Although,” a sudden idea struck him, “perhaps you would be willing to let me restore it?”

“You can do that?” Crowley sounded genuinely interested.

“Yes, of course!” Aziraphale set the book in his lap. “Selling old books may make a nice bit of money occasionally, but restoring them is really my main source of income.”

“Sure, if you want. How much?” 

“No, no. It was my idea, I’m not going to let you pay for it.”

“You can’t just do it for free,” Crowley protested. “I’ll pay for it.” 

“I already made my decision regarding payment. I don’t even know why you are bothering to argue, you’ll just lose.”

Crowley swallowed nervously and looked away from Aziraphale. 

“How about when it’s done, you let me make it up to you? We can go to dinner or something?” When he spoke his voice sounded small.

Aziraphale’s heart tried to leap out of his throat. Surely Crowley was simply being kind again, just an offer to pay back Aziraphale for restoring the book. But in the back of his mind he could imagine holding onto Crowley’s arms as they talked, trading bites of their meals at a restaurant, or even enjoying a bottle of wine together. 

He reminded himself that this was a ridiculous thought. They were at least friends, Crowley’s offer was just him being nice. Spending time together was something friends did, so Aziraphale could do just that. Be his friend.

“That sounds lovely.” He traced a finger over the cover of the book, he was going to have so much fun working on this. And it was going to be so delightful to see Crowley’s reaction when it was done. 

“Aziraphale?” Anathema appeared in the doorway. “Sorry to bother you, but I could use some help when you're available.” She disappeared almost as quick as she arrived. 

“Well,” Aziraphale looked at Crowley with a small smile. “It seems like duty calls.” 

It took several attempts for Aziraphale to try and get out of the chair. Through a lot of teasing, Crowley helped Aziraphale stand up, his cool fingers a balm to Aziraphale's hot ones. By the time they made it over to where Anathema was waiting, Crowley had a mirth in his eyes and his lips stretched into a permanent smile and Aziraphale was trying very hard to look upset and failing miserably. He wasn't even that cross with the man for teasing him so much when every word was shaped through that beautiful smile. Friends. Right. They were just friends. 

“Both myself and Tracy,” Anathema began when they joined her, “have gone through the records and I think this room was part of the original building before it was converted to a library. Not too sure what it was used for before, but I think it has connections for gas.” 

“What do you mean?” Aziraphale asked.

“I think they’re connections for a stove. I could use a second opinion and some help cleaning the room.”

Aziraphale took a moment to store Crowley’s book safely in a drawer at the checkout desk before they all headed to the back room. It was surprisingly large, and he wasn’t sure why it was designated as a storage room, perhaps the library had been updated since it’s last use and was no longer needed when the room they currently used for classes was built. 

Crowley was able to confirm that there were connections for a handful of gas stoves, since he spent a great deal of time cooking and baking so was familiar with what those connectors would look like. 

The next hour or so was spent going through the various boxes that had collected over the years. Anathema acted like a supervisor and directed Aziraphale and Crowley on which items to keep and which ones could be donated or thrown away. She also instructed them on how to clean the room and reminded them not to waste time. Honestly, Aziraphale was getting rather annoyed with her lack of physical labor. 

Unfortunately, though, he did need the reminders from time to time. A vast majority of the cleaning process involved him focusing on not staring at Crowley lifting boxes, and allowing his kilt to swish wildly back and forth as his hips moved. He accidentally ended up dropping a few books on his foot in his effort to not stare.

He felt a bit better when, after removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Crowley ran into the door frame while clearing out a box. It was a good thing he was being just as clumsy as Aziraphale, at least they could share a laugh about it. 

By the end of it, the room was cleaned out and could be used for whatever they needed.

“This would be great to teach classes in, just need some tables and we’d be set.” Anathema looked around the empty room, her gaze calculating. They were able to get rid of most items that cluttered the room; the rest was put into the employee lounge area until they could figure out what to do with it. “And we need a class to replace Shadwell’s. I heard that it didn’t go well.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Crowley muttered. 

“Ah, yes.” Aziraphale quickly added before Crowley could say anything rude. “Well, Shadwell did his best. But perhaps he would be best not volunteering.”

“Best for him to not come near the library again, not unless you want to deal with a sexual harassment lawsuit.” 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped.

“What? Not saying anything I wouldn’t say to Tracy herself.” Aziraphale knew that was true but still, it wasn’t very nice to say‒ even if he did agree with Crowley.

“Anyway,” Anathema cut in before it could devolve into bickering. “We need a new class, any ideas?”

The three of them stood in silence trying to think of something. They could always reach out to other volunteers in the library, surely there would be someone willing to teach a class. He looked over at Crowley and saw him chewing his bottom lip nervously, deep in thought. A subtle look crossed his face, as if coming to some conclusion after a conversation that no one else participated in. 

“Well,” Crowley began, “I could. If you could get some ovens to connect to the gas, then I could teach a cooking class.”

“Cooking?” Aziraphale asked. “You can cook?”

“Oh, yes angel, I can make some rather delicious dessert if War- er, if what people have told me is anything to go by.” 

Aziraphale chose not to respond to that comment. Although he always had a sweet tooth, he could never actually get the hang of actually making desserts. Usually things would get burnt or he would forget some important ingredient and it would taste awful.

“That would be perfect!” Anathema remarked. “We could get a few ovens, some standing tables and see what supplies could be donated. This could be a cooking room and the other can be for the rest of the classes. Great idea!”

“Yes, we could ask local restaurants if they have cooking utensils they would like to donate. It’ll take some time, but I think that would be lovely.” Aziraphale agreed. 

He was sure that if they talked to Greg, the volunteer who was in charge of the library's presence on social media, and had him post something in regards to their need for stoves, they could find someone willing to donate. And by doing that, they would also advertise the new cooking class.

“Course, and I’ll need a sous chef.” Crowley bumped his shoulder against Aziraphale’s and smiled. 

“Me?” Aziraphale asked. “I’m afraid I’m no good at cooking at all, I wouldn’t be of any use.”

“You’ll be fine. Mostly need someone to cut stuff and hand me ingredients.” Crowley tried to put his hands in his pockets nonchalantly before realizing he didn’t have pockets.

“I may be able to manage that.” Aziraphale agreed before he could think more on it. The fact that this meant Aziraphale would be able to spend a little more time with Crowley due to the setup and clean up of the class had nothing to do with his decision. He was just a very helpful volunteer, nothing more.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and all the kudos! Enjoy this next chapter, we start seeing some plot be introduced.

It took several weeks to get everything donated from various restaurants. Tracy managed to find some wiggle room in the budget and purchase some of the smaller items such as knives, plates, measuring cups, and anything else Crowley insisted they needed for the class. 

The routine that Aziraphale had carved out with Crowley continued during this time. They would still be at the classes together, Aziraphale volunteering and Crowley participating. On Wednesdays, Aziraphale would come into the library to help Crowley arrange the room with all the newly acquired donations for his class. Afterwards, Crowley would drive Aziraphale home and they would talk the entire time about anything that came to mind. A few times Aziraphale had the thought to invite Crowley in for a glass of wine, but he never got the courage to do so. 

Saturdays were the usual with Crowley, reading a horror story or two to the kids, all of whom loved it. Although there was a new set of parents that attended and complained about Crowley’s story choice. Aziraphale explained that while he would prefer something different, there were actually some good lessons to be learned from the stories Crowley chose. But if they preferred something else, there were plenty of other volunteers who read more traditional stories and they could attend those sessions instead. 

Crowley’s outfits on his volunteer days were just as ostentatious as the previous weekends, each one more distracting to Aziraphale than the last. He had seen a variety of skin tight trousers, which was a miracle that Crowley was even able to get them on, usually matched with some type of shirt that called all sorts of attention. Once Crowley even came in dressed in an all black outfit that made him look like he belonged somewhere in the French Revolution. 

While putting away the books that day, Aziraphale kept glancing at Crowley as they worked together. And if, in his distraction, Aziraphale managed to get one of the buttons on his sleeve caught in the self and Crowley ended up having to crowd in close to rescue him and save his coat, well that couldn’t have been helped.

They managed to get all the needed supplies and Crowley was ready to teach his first class. Aziraphale arrived early that day, more than a little anxious since it would be the first time their normal working situation would be reversed. He would be the one listening to instructions instead of Crowley, and he worried he wouldn’t do well or would mess up too much. Perhaps Crowley would get irritated too much with his incompetence. 

His mind worried and fretted over every little thing that could go wrong up until he walked into the newly renovated cooking classroom. It looked impressive with the main table at the front that had a few appliances and cooking utensils‒ such as whisks, spatulas, and other items that Aziraphale didn’t really know the name for‒ on it for the teacher. Several rows of tables cut through the room with matching items that were needed for the class. The three ovens that were donated sat off to the side, so depending on the number of people signing up for this class, they would have to share when it came time to actually use them. The sink was installed against the opposite wall to the ovens, with enough counter space to hold the dishes after being washed. Aziraphale wasn’t too involved with the set up of the room, too busy with his own volunteer duties but did take time to peak in every now and again to see the process.

Aziraphale walked in and looked around, very unsure of what he was supposed to do. Crowley hadn’t arrived yet. He looked over the items placed on the front counter; there were several sets of knives, measuring cups, and various other gadgets that Aziraphale didn’t recognize. Briefly, he wondered if he should start putting things out, but he didn’t know which ones were going to be used. 

Just then, Crowley burst into the room with his arms full of grocery bags. 

“Angel, I’m so glad you're here. Give me a hand, will ya?” 

Aziraphale rushed over and took some of the heavy bags from his hands.

“What is all this?” Aziraphale set them on the main table.

“Food. Can’t have a cooking class without it.” Crowley was already taking groceries out of one bag.

“I thought the library would be providing all this.” Aziraphale gestured at the flour, eggs, and sugar.

“Yeah, but a building can’t go shopping.” He finished by pulling out a rather large container with fresh strawberries. “I get to do that, although the library is paying for it. Tracy set a budget and it's not as much as I wanted, but I can make do. So the theme of the class is cheap and easy.” He gave Aziraphale a cheeky smile. “Much like yours truly.” 

“I’ve seen your taste in cars and clothes. You are anything but cheap.” Aziraphale smiled back at Crowley. “I can’t speak for the easy part, although your aforementioned tastes could explain that as well.”

Crowley fumbled with the bag of flour he was in the middle of opening, a puff of white cloud erupting in his face and dusting his dark clothes with a fine layer of powder. 

“Did you just...” Even through the flour sprinkled over Crowley’s face, Aziraphale could see the surprised expression on his face. “I didn’t think you would make a joke like that.” 

“Shall we set up for the class?” Aziraphale grabbed a towel and wetted it at the only sink in the room. He returned and wiped off some of the flour on Crowley’s jacket before gently blotting at Crowley’s face, trying to clean the mess. 

Without thinking, he reached up and plucked Crowley’s glasses off, cleaning them with a towel before placing them just above his hairline in order to finish cleaning the rest of his face. He took this opportunity to look at Crowley’s eyes again, unsure if and when he would get another opportunity to do so. 

Crowley really did have the most beautiful eyes Aziraphale had ever seen. There was certainly no need to constantly hide them behind those dark lenses, but Aziraphale knew he felt more comfortable with them on, so he said nothing. Instead he took this time to memorize the shape of them since he knew the glasses would be returned as soon as he was finished. 

Without warning, Crowley reached out and placed his hand on Aziraphale’s wrist, pausing his movements. They stood staring at each other for a moment, Aziraphale practically cradling Crowley’s head in his hand while he enjoyed the gentle pressure of Crowley’s fingers on his wrist. 

“We should,” Crowley’s voice sounded strained, his gaze dropping to the floor. “We should probably…”

“Right.” Aziraphale reluctantly removed his hand and let Crowley’s arm fall back to his side. “The class. We should get ready for it.” 

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed, but there was something almost like regret in his voice. “You're right, I’ll set out the ingredients if you get all the cooking stuff.”

“I think I can manage that. Although I have no idea what you're making, so I don’t know what to put out.” Aziraphale fiddled with the towel in his hand as Crowley replaced his sunglasses back on his face.

“I didn’t tell you?” Crowley’s confidence only seemed to be restored when he was safely behind his glasses once more. “Tonight we’re making crepes.”

Aziraphale smiled brightly, feeling warmth bloom in his chest. He might be reading too much into it, but it sounded as if Crowley had been paying attention to one of his many ramblings about the closing of one of his favourite cafes. The one that made the sort of crepes that Aziraphale would do things for that would place him smack-bang in the bastille.

The conversation stayed light as they worked together, setting up the class. Aziraphale focused on placing the needed cookware at all the stations for the participants while Crowley set out the ingredients.

“Wait, wait.” Crowley said as he placed a bowl of flour at one of the tables. “So you are reading ‘The Importance of Being Earnest’ and ‘Jane Eyre’ at the same time?”

“I wouldn’t say at the same time. But I alternate nightly depending on my mood.”

“How do you not get them confused?”

“It’s not too difficult, you know. The stories are very different.”

“So between reading every book you own and volunteering here, when do you have time for yourself?” Aziraphale looked up to see Crowley looking concerned. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I like to keep busy.” Aziraphale smiled in, what he hoped, was a reassuring expression. “If I’m not here, then I’ll just be working in the shop.”

“Speaking of,” Crowley asked after a moment of consideration. “How is my book coming along?”

“It’s coming along very nicely. You will hardly recognize it when it's finished.”

“Can’t wait.” Crowley looked at Aziraphale in a way that made it feel as if butterflies started fluttering in his stomach. There was no doubt that Crowley was just excited to see the finished product, but Aziraphale could at least pretend he was looking forward to their promised dinner. 

Unfortunately, the conversation was cut short as the first few participants started to trickle into class. Aziraphale recognized a few of them from the reading circle that Crowley volunteered at. It seemed that once rumor spread about who was teaching this class, several of the parents decided they wanted to attend.

Once everyone was settled, Crowley began his first lesson. The charisma that he seemed to have perfected for his reading circle carried over here. He was able to teach at a slow enough pace so everyone could follow but not get bored. And it was entertaining enough that everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time, including Aziraphale.

“Now you have to make sure not to make the batter too thick, or else you’ll end up with pancakes instead of crepes.” Crowley warned the class as they were adding in the water.

“Not that there's anything wrong with pancakes,” Aziraphale added.

“Yeah, but I’m not teaching a pancake class right now, angel.”

“I’m just letting people know that if they mess up, it's okay. They haven’t ruined anything, pancakes can be just as good.” 

“Ever the optimist, huh?” Crowley gave him a playful smile. “Now what happens if they make it too thin?”

“Uh. I’m not sure.” Aziraphale looked down at the ingredients trying to see if he could figure out the answer. 

“Thought for sure you’d say they could just have one really big crepe.” The both shared a laugh and found that most participants were chucking as well at their interaction.

While Aziraphale usually avoided cooking, working with Crowley made it fun. His job mainly focused on handing over items, or whisking ingredients together when Crowley went to go help others. But he was surprised at how much he was enjoying himself. The only complaint he had was when Crowley had to leave his side to check on the others. 

There was one particular woman who seemed to be under the impression that if she pretended to be helpless then Crowley would have no choice but to spend the entire time with her and that would obviously translate into something more. He giggled a little at the annoyed look on her face when Crowley walked over, gave her a few suggestions on how to fix her lumpy batter, and then walked away to help someone else.

“Once you have finished the batter, turn on the flat grill and I’ll walk you through how to cook these.” Crowley returned back to the station in the front before turning to Aziraphale. “Angel, could you cut up some strawberries?”

Aziraphale did as instructed while Crowley taught the class on how to cook their crepes and add things such as fruits or chocolate to the inside. While he was paying attention to the task at hand, and ensuring he did not cut said hand, Aziraphale didn’t even notice Crowley come up behind him and pick a strawberry.

“Gotta check the quality,” he said before bringing it up for a bite. All Aziraphale could do was nod and continue to focus on cutting the rest of the strawberries. 

Crowley hummed in delight and Aziraphale tried very hard to ignore it. Even though everyone else in the class seemed to be focused on their own dishes, Aziraphale felt like he was on display. He was very aware of how close Crowley was to him, a bit more than socially acceptable, but that was the usual distance they tended to keep, or at least they did recently, although Aziraphale couldn’t remember when that happened. 

“These are delicious angel, you should have one.” Crowley picked up a second one and held it out. For half a second, Aziraphale was tempted to get Crowley to feed it to him, but thought better of it when the exposed feeling came back. Instead he plucked it out of Crowley’s fingers and took a bite. It had just the right amount of sweetness from being at the perfect ripeness. Aziraphale hummed his appreciation and smiled while enjoying the fruit. 

“They really are!” Aziraphale finally remarked once he was done. “Well chosen.”

He looked over at Crowley, fully expecting some type of comment about the compliment Aziraphale gave. Instead Crowley just stared at him, mouth parted slightly, and an almost flushed look on his face.

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale scrunched his eyebrows in concern. “You look like you’ve taken ill all of a sudden.”

That seemed to snap Crowley out of it. He blinked a few times, probably gathering his thoughts much like an old computer trying very hard to run programs it wasn’t suited to handle anymore. 

“Yeah, yeah. Perfectly fine.” He shook his head like an etch-n-sketch. “Anyway, back to cooking.”

The class came to an end with everyone successfully making their dishes and milling about to talk and eat their food. Aziraphale set about washing the dishes from the eight participants, figuring it would be best to finish as quickly as possible so they wouldn’t have to stay too long after class. As he was in the corner scrubbing away, he couldn’t help but overhear some of the compliments directed towards Crowley. 

“You really are such a good teacher,” one woman said to him.

“Yeah, I can’t cook worth a damn but these turned out great,” a second one chimed in.

Aziraphale could hear Crowley laugh in response and he just rolled his eyes. While the first few times this happened, Aziraphale could admit he felt a sting of something akin to jealousy. But now those feelings warped more into annoyance.

“Need some help?” An unfamiliar voice spoke next to Aziraphale.

He looked over to see one of the participants standing next to him. He was a rather tall man, with dark skin and even darker hair styled neatly with probably a bit too much product‒ in Aziraphale’s opinion. The participant picked up a towel and started to dry some of the dishes that had already been washed.

“Oh, there is really no need.” 

“Nah, I was raised to always help. I’m stuck here until my ride is ready to go,” He pointed a finger towards one of the ladies talking with Crowley. “So I might as well make myself useful.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale handed him a plate. “I didn’t catch your name, though.” 

“Jaime.” 

“Pleasure to meet you.” 

It was a bit surprising how comfortable Aziraphale felt with making small talk with this stranger next to him. Normally at the library he would only talk to those who needed help and would avoid having too much of a personal conversation. He would just stick to himself and the books, eventually people sort of viewed him as an extension of the library, like a walking reference rather than a person. But now it actually felt nice to talk with others. 

Crowley had really eased him out of his little reclusive bubble that had formed over the years. He looked back at Crowley who was trying‒ and failing miserably‒ to launch a strawberry on a spoon into a cup while the two ladies he was talking to laughed at his attempts. He chuckled fondly when one of them hit the wall and left a pink mark a bit too high for anyone to properly clean.

“If I may ask,” Aziraphale turned to Jaime, “how did you hear about this class?”

“Me and Charity bring the kids to the reading circle on Saturdays. Crowley was talking about it after the reading one day and thought it would be fun to attend.” 

“I’m glad the two of you were able to attend.” He handed over another dish to dry. “Do your kids enjoy the reading circle?”

“They both love it. Actually I almost walked out the first time because of the story, but Miguel, my son, didn’t want to leave and insisted we come back each week.”

“That’s wonderful to hear. It’s important to develop a love of reading early on. It helps so much with cognitive ability, vocabulary, and their potential to do well in school.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we found out about this. I’ve seen a huge improvement in Miguel’s reading since we’ve been coming.”

“It’s so great that you and your wife are doing so much to help your son be successful.”

“Wife?” Jaime looked up with a confused expression. “Oh. No! Charity is not my wife, she’s my neighbor. Got her own daughter, Sarah. We are both single parents so we end up doing a lot together to help each other out.”

“I apologize, I shouldn’t have assumed.” Aziraphale felt a little embarrassed for just jumping to conclusions.

“Don’t worry about it.” Jaime reassured with a gentle smile. “Happens all the time, we’re basically joined at the hip anyway.”

Aziraphale felt a bit better knowing he wasn’t the only person to make that kind of mistake. They continued to chat while working on the dishes. Jaime shared the story of how his son apparently borrowed Charity’s daughter’s bike one day without asking and that was how they met. The kids became close friends after that, and as a result he and Charity became friends as well. 

“Your wife is really lucky to have someone like you,” he overheard the second woman tell Crowley. Aziraphale learned that her name was Mia and was a coworker of Charity’s.

“Don’t got one of those, but I do have some very nice plants to keep me company at home,” Crowley answered with a laugh. “Hope you enjoyed the class, but I’ve got to clean up.” 

Crowley came up and thanked Jaime for helping before taking over drying duties himself. It didn’t take long until Aziraphale and Crowley were the only ones left. While it was pleasant to have Jaime helping, having Crowley help made Aziraphale feel more relaxed. Their conversation was light with just enough teasing that Aziraphale’s cheeks nearly hurt from smiling too much. After they were finished, Aziraphale wondered if he would be offered his usual ride home. Obviously he shouldn’t just assume, but Crowley had always insisted and it was always a great excuse to spend more time with him.

“Angel,” Crowley had a nervous energy about him, “I don’t really have much of a sweet tooth, but there are a few crepes left over. Do you want them?”

“That sounds lovely.”

Aziraphale took a seat at one of the two stools brought up to the table in front. The crepes sitting on the table looked absolutely scrumptious and Aziraphale felt very touched that Crowley had saved these for them to enjoy together.

The crepes at Aziraphale’s favorite cafe couldn’t even hold a candle to the ones that Crowley had made. He hummed in delight as he savoured the taste of the marvellously sweet strawberries mixed with the light and airy pastry. And the cream on top just complimented it perfectly.

“My dear, these are wonderful!” Aziraphale said before taking another mouthful, eyes sliding shut. These were the crepes he would willingly commit the most scandalous crimes for. Or perhaps he would be willing to commit those crimes for the one who made them.

A clattering sound made Aziraphale open them again. Crowley had dropped his fork on the table and was staring at him with a tint of pink across the bridge of his nose.

“Wha-?”

Aziraphale blinked. “Are you alright?” 

“N-no, I mean yeah. I just… what did you call me?”

For half a second Aziraphale didn’t understand. “Oh.” Perhaps he was overstepping again, using such a familiar term of endearment. It slipped out without him even thinking about it, and he worried that Crowley might be a little displeased at the name. “Apologies, I- um. If it makes you uncomfortable then I won’t call you that.”

“Nonono, ‘s fine. I like it.” He picked up his fallen fork, passing it between his fingers and avoided looking at Aziraphale. “I just wasn’t expecting, you know.” He shrugged. “Nicknames and whatnot.”

“I see, do you want me to stop?”

“Nah. Like I said, I like it.” Crowley smiled. “Although you should have asked my opinion before picking something an old lady might say.”

“Last I recalled, you called me angel without asking, so I believe we’re even now.” Aziraphale took another bite of his crepes and threw Crowley a smirk. 

“That one is your fault. You’re the one who came up looking like some sort of vengeful angel about to smite me.”

Aziraphale gasped. “I do not look like that!”

“‘Course you do. Looking all righteous and,” he gestured vaguely in the air as if trying to find the right words, “and all holier-than-thou while lecturing me.” 

Aziraphale shook his head, electing to enjoy the company and finish his dessert. And he was delighted in the fact that Crowley had given permission to use his term of endearment.

“Really, my dear,” he said after a particularly delectable bite. “These are absolutely scrumptious.”

“Really? Glad you like them.” 

“You really should be a professional chef.” He took another bite and wiggled in his seat. These were some of the best crepes he had ever had. “That is, if you are not already.”

“Nah, being in a restaurant kitchen is too stressful.” Crowley chuckled before picking up his own fork and spearing a strawberry slice. 

“Are you ever going to tell me what you do for a living?”

“I get judged a lot for my job.” He shrugged before leaning back in his own chair. “But I suppose I’ll tell you one day. Probably soon.” 

Once again, Aziraphale was overwhelmed with the amount of trust Crowley seemed to place in him. First, it was with his eyes, which it seemed that Aziraphale was the only person in the library to have seen Crowley without his ever-present sunglasses. Now with the promise of him opening up more. The confidence that Crowley put in him made Aziraphale feel light-headed, a feeling that made it seem as if he had wings and could fly. That made for an amusing image, and if Crowley could see it he would insist that Aziraphale  _ was _ a real angel. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t feel comfortable with.” Aziraphale smiled before taking another bite. The crepes were only getting more delicious as he continued. “Although perhaps you can tell me something small? For instance, why would you volunteer to read horror stories for children?”

Crowley barked out a sharp laugh. “It wasn’t always horror stories. I tried the usual stories, but I could see the boredom in their eyes. Then one day I brought in ‘The Lottery’ by Shirley Jackson, some of those parents nearly had a heart attack on the spot.” He chuckled and sat up a little straighter, elbows propped on the table. “The kids seemed to like it though, they made me promise to bring another one like it the next week, then the next, then the next. And it sort of caught on.”

“Well…” Aziraphale gave a particularly long sigh. “I didn’t want to admit it before, but the kids really do love the stories you bring in. I think you really inspire a love of reading in them.”

“Are you saying you agree with what I am doing?” He looked utterly shocked.

“No, I didn’t say-”

“No, no. You can’t just go changing your mind now.” He leaned forward just enough for Aziraphale to feel Crowley’s presence in his personal space. Without thinking, Aziraphale shifted his focus to Crowley’s lips, which did look very soft and inviting at this particular moment. “You agree with what I am doing, so I have your blessing to keep doing it.” 

Aziraphale snapped his attention back into focus. “I never said...” He huffed and took the final bite of the crepes. There was no use in even trying to argue with Crowley, sometimes he only heard what he wanted to. 

Even though the food was gone, the conversation still flowed. They talked for a few hours, jumping from topic to topic. If someone had been trying to follow them, it would have been useless. Aziraphale managed to steer it towards books, several times. He discovered that Crowley apparently had a soft spot for Shakespeare, but only admitted to liking the comedies. 

It was somewhere near midnight when Aziraphale noticed and informed Crowley that it was time to go home. Of course Crowley drove him home and, of course, Aziraphale couldn't work up the courage to invite Crowley in. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for comments and kudos! Here is the next chapter, I hope you enjoy it.

The rest of the cooking classes seemed to follow in the same pattern. Crowley would teach, Aziraphale would help, and afterwards they would stay and talk for as long as possible. The class only seemed to get more and more full as the weeks progressed, mirroring the popularity of his reading circle. It was easy to see why it had become popular too. Crowley had an undeniable charisma about him that drew in everyone’s attention. He easily kept the class entertaining while also being informative.

Of course, there was a small group of individuals who only seemed to attend class as an excuse to talk with Crowley, but their attempts seemed to have died down slightly over time. Something that Aziraphale was grateful for.

Aziraphale was still working hard on fixing Crowley’s book. The cover was almost fully restored and looked better than he’d imagined, slowly he was working on rebinding all the pages to ensure the book would last for a long time. He couldn't work on it as much as he would have liked since most of his free time seemed to be spent at the library, and subsequently with Crowley. But whatever little time he could dedicate to it always made him smile. Each time he touched the book, he was reminded of Crowley’s promise. Secretly, he hoped to finish this sooner rather than later, so he could take up the offer of dinner together. He knew that Crowley meant it as friends, he must have, but Aziraphale was still looking forward to it. 

As reluctant as Aziraphale was to admit it, his feelings for Crowley were more than just friendship. Although there were plenty of times that Crowley hinted that he could feel the same, Aziraphale didn’t want to cross that line. Crowley was far too important, there was no way that Azirphale would want to risk what they had between them due to a, more than likely, one sided infatuation. Crowley was a kind and friendly person who seemed to know how to always make Aziraphale smile. He wanted to preserve this relationship in any way, even if it was just friendship. And hopefully that friendship would include activities outside the library, such as that promised dinner once the book was finished. 

“Good evening,” Aziraphale said as Crowley placed the bags of food on the table. “And what are we going to be making tonight?”

Crowley fished the ingredients out. “One of my favorites. Cinnamon rolls, complete with homemade frosting.”

“Sounds delectable.” He gathered the needed supplies and set them out at each station. “Although I noticed you didn’t get any raisins.”

“Raisins?” Crowley asked in an almost offended tone. “You want me to ruin perfectly good cinnamon rolls with  _ raisins _ ? Are you mad?”

“Well I think they don’t ruin anything, in fact they would probably make your dish better.”

“Better?” Crowley curled an eyebrow over his sunglasses. “They would not! Raisins are just grapes that weren’t good enough to be wine. No one actually likes them.”

“I do.” Aziraphale admitted. “But I will admit I like wine far more. My collection at the shop has actually grown considerably these past few years.”

“You a collector or something?” Crowley asked as they both worked to set up for the class. 

“I wouldn’t label myself as such, but I do buy a few bottles when I find a particular one I enjoy.” He sighed before admitting the next part. “Although I don’t indulge in them too often anymore, it’s not much fun to drink alone.”

Crowley cleared his throat just loud enough to catch Aziraphale’s attention. “If you ever want company...” 

The rest of the sentence hung in the air, the invite that Aziraphale had wanted to extend for a while. Everytime Aziraphale had accepted a ride home from Crowley he thought about inviting him in, but it didn’t feel appropriate, especially given that they would end up talking at the library for a few hours. By the time Aziraphale got home, it would be rather late. 

But the offer Crowley had just presented sounded like a good excuse for Aziraphale to invite him over on one of his off days. Perhaps they could just drink and spend time together at the shop. 

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure though. He didn’t really know if he could trust himself around Crowley, if alcohol were involved. If it was just the two of them, alone, in the shop, enjoying the wine and the company then Aziraphale would certainly end up doing something to embarrass himself.

One day he would invite Crowley over, but he needed some time to get rid of his crush or else run the risk of making a fool out of himself.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Aziraphale said before going back to the task he was working on before.

“Right.” Crowley’s tone sounded a little wistful. 

The silence that settled between them while they continued to work was a little unbearable. Aziraphale couldn’t put a finger on why, though. Normally when there was silence it was pleasant, just a pause in the conversation that neither really thought anything of. It was warm and enjoyable, just like the company that Crowley offered. 

This silence, however, was strained, as if something had snapped out of place and he couldn’t work out how to fix it. Crowley’s energy was prickly, fragile, and just on the edge of cold. Aziraphale remembered back to secondary school when one of his teachers had brought liquid nitrogen to class, he placed a rose in the substance only to have it emerge completely iced over in a matter of seconds. All it took was a rough strike on the edge of the table for the rose to scatter like glass. That was what Aziraphale felt now, one sharp tap in the wrong spot and everything could shatter.

The worst part was not understanding why.

Aziraphale wanted to reach out and ask what was wrong, but Crowley's body language seemed to be closed off. He was only focused on preparing for the class, not even sparing a moment to glance up at Aziraphale. Eventually, he took the hint and Aziraphale went back to getting the class ready. 

Once people came in, the tension eased up a bit more. Crowley melted back into his teaching demeanor. He easily joked around with people and put everyone at ease. Aziraphale could see there were two sides to him. 

The Crowley who appeared in public was always coy and confident. A show of bravado that had people intrigued with everything he said. But then there was the calmer version that Aziraphale had been privileged enough to see. The vulnerable side he didn’t show, the one hidden underneath those glasses. The side that Aziraphale had been falling for all these weeks.

No one else got to see Crowley as he did, and Aziraphale basked in that knowledge.

Crowley called for attention and explained what they would be doing tonight. Everyone listened and followed instructions easy enough. Aziraphale helped when needed, and collected dishes that were done to be cleaned after class. 

Overall, it was another successful class and the tension that Aziraphale had felt earlier seemed to have dissipated.

The class ended a little later than usual, but while the rolls cooked, Aziraphale worked on the dishes so that when the room cleared he would have a bit more time to spend with Crowley. The smell of cinnamon and sugar filled the room and Aziraphale was a bit excited to try some. He hoped that the earlier incident wouldn’t affect the time they spent eating what was made in class and talking. It was something Aziraphale looked forward to every week.

“Hey, Aziraphale.” Jaime’s voice startled Aziraphale slightly. “Need help again?”

“Even If I said no, you’d still help.” He joked and handed a dish for Jaime to dry. “How have you been?”

“Good, good.” He nodded a little as if trying to convince himself that he was, in fact, doing well. “Just a bit stressed with party planning.” 

“Oh, what’s the occasion?” 

“Miguel’s fifth birthday.” He smiled a little at the dish he was wiping down with a towel. “I just didn’t realize how much work went into a kid’s birthday party. Paul was always so much better at this kind of stuff.”

“Paul?” Aziraphale couldn’t help his curiosity. All his conversations with Jaime these past few classes, he never mentioned anyone with this name before.

“My…” His eyebrows scrunched in confusion, as if he didn’t know how to answer it. “Husband. He passed away two years ago. Lung cancer.” Jaime took another dish from Aziraphale and avoided looking at him.

“I’m sorry to-”

“Don’t.” Jaime said sharply. “Everyone says that, no one actually is. So just don’t.”

Aziraphale snapped his mouth closed, unsure of what to say. After a few moments Jaime started to talk again, possibly trying to relieve the tension. 

“Anyway got the cake ordered, decorations are being delivered, I even picked up a spiderman piñata. My plan is to give them all enough sugar that they’ll eventually crash.”

“Sounds like a solid plan.” Aziraphale smiled and could see Jaime relax a little.

“But I am still looking for someone to entertain the kids. Like a puppet show or something, I don’t know.”

A thought struck Aziraphale that he could volunteer. After all, he knew quite a few magic tricks, something most people would have never guessed just by looking at him. He studied card tricks and sleight of hand for several years. He could easily volunteer to put on a magic show, it would ease some stress from Jaime and allow Aziraphale to have a bit of fun. But he figured most children’s parties probably would happen on the weekend, which meant if he volunteered that would be a Saturday he wouldn’t see Crowley. 

There were two options at this point. Be altruistic and volunteer one Saturday to put on a magic show in order to help Jaime. Or be a completely selfish bastard and have another Saturday with Crowley. 

He looked over his shoulder to see Crowley collecting a few other utensils that needed to be washed. When he looked up, there was the softest smile Aziraphale had ever seen on Crowley before, it made his heart skip and he instinctively smiled back. Well, Aziraphale always knew he was a little bit of a bastard. 

“I do hope you are able to find someone.” He turned back to Jaime.

“I’m sure I will. I’ve still got a couple of weeks.” 

The pair finished up with just a little bit of friendly conversation. Jaime and his friends were the last ones to leave, much like every week. Aziraphale bid them goodbye before he noticed that Crowley was sitting at the usual spot waiting for him. There seemed to be a nervousness floating about Crowley, fidgeting with the items on the table, straightening and re-straightening the fork that rested next to the cinnamon rolls as he waited for Aziraphale.

“These look amazing.” Aziraphale took his seat as well and tucked in without hesitation. If he thought the smell was driving him wild earlier, it didn’t even compare to the taste of them. It had the perfect balance of sweetness without being overtly so. “You are absolutely right. Raisins would have been a terrible addition.” 

“From now on, I think it’s safe to assume that I’m always right.” Crowley chuckled and Aziraphale shot him a flat look.

The ease between them came back, something that Aziraphale was grateful for. Crowley somehow made sitting on a stool look far more comfortable than it actually was, his long limbs sprawled about the legs of the chair and elbows leaning on the counter. His gaze seemed to be pointed at Aziraphale at all times, even though the sunglasses stayed firmly in place tonight, something that didn’t escape Aziraphale’s notice. Wistfully, he hoped to see those beautiful mismatched eyes again, especially after they had made such progress in their friendship. He wondered why they had taken this step back. But he didn’t want to push it, so the subject was never brought up.

Instead Crowley asked about the bookshop and Aziraphale delighted in telling him about a couple of new first additions he managed to get his hands on. They talked about Crowley’s car; apparently he was a handyman to some degree when it came to his beloved automobile and would do most of the tune up himself. 

Aziraphale had to drive away the image of Crowley bent over the hood, covered in a sheen of sweat and grease from the work. 

Then, out of nowhere, Crowley had brought up something that Aziraphale had not been expecting. 

“Today was actually a pretty rough day at work.” Now the sunglasses made a bit more sense. Crowley was such a private person, and bringing up something he had been avoiding must have been enough to make him feel exposed. He needed his security blanket. “Nothing bad, just exhausting. And I may have had a bit of a row with my employer.”

“Would you like to talk about it?” Aziraphale asked tentatively, placing his fork down gently on the table. Pastry only half eaten.

“Kinda. I guess that means I’d have to tell you what I do.” Crowley looked almost embarrassed and mumbled something that Aziraphale couldn’t understand. 

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that.”

Crowley sighed and looked down at his feet, almost as if he was about to admit something shameful. But Aziraphale couldn’t think of anything that could be said that would change his mind about how he felt for Crowley. 

“I’m a nanny,” Crowley spoke in a defeatist tone. He avoided looking back up at Aziraphale, but he could easily see the tips of his ears were flaming red.

“That sounds like a wonderful career!” He made sure to keep his voice soothing. “Tell me about it.”

Aziraphale had no judgement of his own to give. In fact, he thought it was strange that there weren't more men in this perfection. Sure, most people often didn’t think of hiring a male nanny, but that was usually due to their own prejudices and not reflective of how they were as a nanny. Surely Crowley must be absolutely phenomenal, just based on how he’d seen him interact with the children in the reading circle. He made sure that each got a turn being able to read from the books, he always gently encouraged them to reach just outside their abilities so they would improve with each session. He was able to keep them focused with only the kind of skill you would see in an educator. Aziraphale actually thought it was adorable. 

But he could sense that Crowley must have been worried about this confession. There must have been some past experiences that caused Crowley to act this way for such a noble profession. He wanted to reach out and comfort Crowley, but he didn’t know how. 

Crowley looked back up to make eye contact with Aziraphale. He stared for a few moments as if trying to gauge whether or not Aziraphale was being genuine. Apparently he must have come to a conclusion because his shoulders were visibly relaxed when he spoke again.

“Not much to say really.” He shrugged. “I only watch the kid when his parents are at work during the week. Do the usual stuff, like teaching him reading and writing, getting him ready for school next year.”

“Do tell me about him.”

That comment made Crowley’s expression light up. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his phone to show off hundreds, if not thousands, of photos. “His name is Warlock, dunno where his parents got an idea for a name like that. He’s a pretty sweet kid, although sometimes he tries to act like a spoiled brat.” 

Crowley showed a picture of a small boy, no older than four, with dark hair and a toothy grin and dirt covering his face and clothes. He was holding up a potted plant triumphantly in some sort of garden.

“Taught him to garden myself. He can’t really yell at the plants yet, but he’ll get there.” Aziraphale laughed at the comment, surely Crowley must have been making a joke about scolding the plants. “He’s actually the reason I volunteered at the library.” 

Crowley swiped through a few more photos while he spoke. There was one of Warlock at a zoo, he looked a little younger than the first picture, his hair just a touch shorter. In the photo he had his face pressed up against the glass trying to eye whatever was in the enclosure. “I usually have different lessons throughout the week. I thought going to a reading circle at the library would be good for him. The lady who read was so boring though, Warlock complained the whole time. After that, he demanded I read to him more often. Said I should be running those circles since I was more exciting than the other person.”

“I am glad that he convinced you,” Aziraphale admitted with a soft smile. Crowley returned it with a nod of agreement.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid. Sometimes he’s a little devil, though.” 

“You really are so good with children,” Aziraphale remarked. “Everytime I see you in the reading circle, I’m amazed at how well you can keep them settled down and how you are always helping them become more confident readers.” Crowley kept his eyes on the phone in front of him, staring at the picture of Warlock and his big grin. “You must be a very good nanny.”

Crowley shrugged off the comment. “I don't know about good, maybe suitable.”

Aziraphale scoffed. “You are never going to let me live that comment down, are you?”

“Never.” Crowley smiled wickedly at Aziraphale. 

It was a beautiful little thing that showed off far too many teeth in the best way possible. And Aziraphale was transfixed, utterly gone, unforgivably warm, and, most importantly, impossibly in love. It was tragic really. To fall so completely for someone who was a friend. Someone who could never really return those feelings, and yet Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of not having Crowley around. Even if the best thing he could ever get from this was a friendship, Aziraphale wanted nothing more than to hold onto it. 

He told himself constantly that Crowley was a natural flirt, there could be no way he was actually interested in pursuing anything between them. And yet, Crowley made no attempt to move farther away.

He didn’t even notice how close he had moved towards Crowley in order to see the pictures on the phone. Again that spark that Aziraphale could feel came back. It pulled him like a magnet towards Crowley, but he hesitated in moving any closer. Like a shooting star, close enough to be firmly within Crowley’s orbit and to interact leaving a beautiful trail across the sky but not so close as to burn up and crash. It was a fine line that Aziraphale was teetering on, although he would much rather just take the plunge to the other side, consequences be damned.

But no, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He valued Crowley’s friendship far too much. 

“A-About the argument?” Aziraphale was surprised at how strained his voice was.

Crowley moved back, just enough for that pull that Aziraphale felt to snap apart. 

“Yeah, yeah. I had a row with Mr. Dowling, Warlock’s dad.” Crowley looked down at the picture on his screen one last time before closing it. “See he’s an American ambassador here, and Warlock has a part in a community play coming up. His mom thought it would be good to get some arts experience, ya know. Anyway Mr. Dowling comes home today and says he’s not going to be in town for this play ‘cause he has to leave for work. So I had it out with him. Tell him that it's important to Warlock.” 

“Oh,” Aziraphale’s heart felt heavy for the poor boy. 

“Thaddeus, that’s his name, says that it's just a small part and it doesn’t matter. I lost it, it doesn’t matter what kind of part it is. Warlock isn’t going to remember the part, or probably the play as he grows up. But he’ll remember who was there for him. Times like this make me worry about what’s going to happen when I’m gone. Who will be there for Warlock?”

Aziraphale placed his hand over Crowley’s, which rested on the table when he spoke. He squeezed a little in reassurance.

“Sorry,” Crowley said. “Didn’t mean to blabber.” 

“No, don’t be sorry.” Aziraphale moved just enough hoping to catch Crowley’s eye. It must have worked since he looked back up, they took a moment of pause. “It’s only natural to worry about your charge, I can’t speak for what will happen when you are finished with your job. But I do know he is very lucky to have you in his life.”

“Thanks angel.” 

All they could do was gaze at each other, Aziraphale’s hand resting on Crowley’s. After a few moments, Crowley insisted that Aziraphale finish the pastry. So they talked a while longer before Crowley drove Aziraphale back to the shop.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support on this little story. We are starting to get a bit of drama introduced here. I hope you enjoy.

Ever since the night when Crowley opened up about his job, their conversations after class shifted. Nothing dramatic, but Crowley seemed to be more relaxed and genuine. Not that he wasn’t before, but this was different.

Aziraphale could just see how at ease he was when it was just the two of them. During class, he was still charming as ever, but after class, when it was only him and Aziraphale, something felt different. Crowley would talk about his day at work, tell Aziraphale all the stories of Warlock and how much he was growing. Amazingly enough, Crowley would even ask for his opinion on what stories to read on Saturdays. As much as Aziraphale had asked though, Crowley refused to read anything other than his usual horror stories. 

Overall, Aziraphale was really enjoying all the time they got to spend together and he hoped the feeling was mutual. 

Aziraphale arrived at the library for the usual cooking class, although his nerves were a little more high strung than usual. A couple of hours ago he put the final touches on Crowley’s book. Hope flared in his chest that the offer to go out to dinner when it was finished would still be on the table, and hopefully he would find the courage to ask Crowley to come over afterwards. He wanted to be able to spend time with Crowley outside of the library. 

Just as friends, obviously.

When Crowley arrived, they got ready for the class. They worked well together, talking and laughing as they went. Their jokes and teasing weren’t limited to just the time alone, it often carried into the class. Crowley would usually make a pointed comment towards Aziraphale, who would respond with his own retort. It must have made for a very entertaining class.

They were about halfway done with the class when Aziraphale heard a voice he had unfortunately become familiar with. 

“Teacher! I think I need some help over here,” Charity called out from the middle row.

It seemed like every week she couldn’t follow simple instructions and would call for Crowley to help. At first, Aziraphale didn’t think anything of it. He figured that some people just didn’t have the skill for cooking, but they still wanted to learn. Something he thought of for himself most of this life, but helping with these classes showed him that wasn’t true. Now that he had someone like Crowley as a proper teacher, he discovered a hidden talent for baking. 

On the other hand, Charity was a disaster. She somehow managed to burn even the simplest of recipes, and didn’t know how to measure most ingredients. She also was quick to refuse help from her friends and instead would call Crowley over. There were also a few comments she made about her recent divorce and how she needed to find someone who could cook.

At first Aziraphale would just roll his eyes and Crowley would make a joke. But it didn’t seem to let up and Aziraphale was getting more and more irritated. He knew he shouldn’t be, after all they were friends. Just because he had been developing feelings for Crowley didn’t mean that they would be returned. And he was free to date whomever he wanted, and Aziraphale would support him because that was what friends did. Even if it hurt to see him laughing and smiling with someone else.

“Charity, again?” Crowley tutted while she just smiled sheepishly. 

“What can I say, I’m just no good with this.” She shrugged. “You’ve got to help me, the crust for the cheesecake just keeps falling apart.” 

Crowley stayed at that station for a few minutes, helping her figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. Aziraphale mostly ignored them and continued to help others, or gathering used dishes to place in the sink so they didn't take too much time after class cleaning. He would much rather spend that time talking with Crowley.

“Aziraphale!” Jaime called from a station towards the back of the room. When Aziraphale looked up, Jaime was gesturing for him to come over.

“Did you need help with anything?” he said as he approached the table. 

“Not really, but I could use a second opinion.” He grinned. “Mia and I were having a friendly discussion.” 

“You know there is really nothing to discuss, I’m right.” Mia spoke up from the workstation next to his. “Don’t know why you are trying to argue.”

“Anyway.” Jaime rolled his eyes. “She thinks that buying an e-reader is a waste of money and I should only stick with printed books. As someone who works in a library, you’ve got to be an expert on this, yeah?”

“Everyone knows that physical books are loads better than an e-reader,” Mia continued to argue even as she poured her cake mixture into the baking pan. 

“Yeah, but I could get hundreds of books on an e-reader, without wasting space in my house.” Jaime turned to Aziraphale with a pleading expression. “Please tell her that I’m right.”

“Oh! Well,” Aziraphale was actually taken back a bit at being asked to take his side rather than give his true opinion. “While e-readers are beneficial in being able to access several books at once, I’m afraid I do have to side with Mia on this one.”

“Told you!” Mia laughed.

“There is nothing quite like holding an actual book in your hands,” Aziraphale said, feeling a current of excitement run through him as he described his passion. “Being able to feel the weight of it, the paper texture as you read through it. Even just the smell of an old book can bring up such happy memories. Well, there is nothing that can replace that. E-readers can be convenient, but it's not the same. Sorry, but I can’t help your cause.”

“No, it’s fine.” There was a small smile on Jaime’s lips. “I’ve never thought of it like that, perhaps you’ve convinced me not to get one.” 

“I am not discouraging you, merely pointing out the error of your thinking.” 

“Oh, why thank you, Aziraphale.” Jaime’s tone was playful. “How about, since you helped me, I’ll help you with the dishes while the cakes are in the oven.”

“That would be delightful.” 

After asking Mia if she would be okay watching both cakes, they both started in on the dishes in the sink. Jaime was a wonderful person to keep him company, and while their conversations were never quite as memorable as his and Crowley’s, it was pleasant nonetheless. 

After a while, Crowley brought over a few more items.

“You two on dish duty again?” he teased, but there seemed to be something else underneath. 

“Yeah,” Jaime answered. “I thought Aziraphale could use the help.”

“‘Course, you’re ah, very helpful.” Crowley nodded stiffly, as if he were a puppet being forced to move against his will. “Glad you’re here to help Aziraphale, not that he isn’t capable on his own or anything.” His smile was strained.

Aziraphale thought Crowley’s rambling to be odd, but didn’t know what to say.

“Charity running you a bit ragged?” Jaime lowered his voice a bit, so it would be difficult for others to hear over the sound of the running water.

“Eh, a bit. Nothing I can’t handle though.” 

Almost as if she could sense they were talking about her, Charity called out for Crowley’s help again. He gave them both a strained smirk and sauntered over to help. Aziraphale could hear him tease Charity playfully for whatever mistake she had made this time around.

“Sorry she’s so bad at cooking.” Jaime apologized for his friend. “We usually just end up having dinner at my house because she can’t even follow the simplest of recipes.”

“Well, everyone is here to learn.” 

Aziraphale looked back at the class and could see Charity laughing over some comment that Crowley had obviously said. There was a sudden pain that ran through Aziraphale, a sharp jab that felt an awful lot like jealousy. Quickly, he turned back to continue to work on the dishes. When he handed a plate over to Jaime to dry, there was a pause. Jaime was looking down at the towel in his hands as if he was in thought. There was a quick glance at Crowley before he grabbed the dish and started to dry it. 

“She fancies him, you know.” Jaime’s words cut Aziraphale deep. There was always the idle thought that others would certainly have an interest in Crowley, but actually hearing the words was something painful, like a dagger plunged deep and the blood that trickled out was ice cold against his skin. “That’s why we actually started coming to this class. She wanted an excuse to see him and ask him out.”

Aziraphale didn’t know how to respond. In the back of his mind he always thought that was the reason for Charity’s insistence on asking Crowley for help. He knew that other people obviously would find Crowley attractive, he shouldn't be so selfish as to think that he could have Crowley all to himself. They were only friends, the sooner Aziraphale could come to terms with that fact, the better.

“Personally,” Jaime continued, “I think he would be good for her. Plus Sarah already loves him from the reading circle. Speaking as a single parent myself, I wouldn’t want to date someone who didn’t get along with Miguel, you know?”

“Indeed.” Although Aziraphale agreed, his thoughts swirled in his mind. That thought that Crowley would make a good father one day came back with much more force than before. He almost pictured them making a happy little family. 

And that would leave Aziraphale in the same spot he was before, alone with nothing but his books for company. Of course, Crowley wouldn’t just completely abandon their friendship just because of a new relationship, but he wouldn’t actually want to stay friends with some guy he met at the library. Not when he had a wonderful family to go home to.

But those thoughts were getting ahead of himself. Crowley showed no interest in Charity beyond the professional need to help her. Everything else was speculation which only served to sour his mood.

By the time Aziraphale and Jaime had finished, so had the class. It took some time for everyone to leave, Jaime promising he’d be there to help next week.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with him,” Crowley crossed his arms and watched the last of the participants leaving the building.

“No more than you with Charity.” The words left Aziraphale’s mouth before he even had time to think. 

“Wassat supposed to mean?” Crowley bristled.

“Nothing, dear.” Aziraphale sighed. “Just a bit tired tonight. Perhaps it would be best for me to just go home.”

“Yeah, sure thing angel.” Crowley found some aluminum foil and wrapped the cheesecake from class so Aziraphale could take it home. An action that made Aziraphale feel both wonderful and terrible at the same time. He had no reason to be so harsh with Crowley.

The drive home was strained and the silence was almost suffocating. Aziraphale felt a little on edge from it, as well as the events in the class. He worried that if he were to speak up, he would end up saying the wrong thing. So he stayed silent the entire time.

“Is everything alright?” Crowley was the one to break the silence as they arrived in front of Aziraphale’s home. 

“Yes, everything is alright.” He tried to smile, but even Aziraphale felt it was forced.

“‘Kay,” Crowley hesitated. “You just, I dunno. Something just feels off.” 

“Just tired, I assure you.”

“If you’re having trouble sleeping, my offer still stands.” Crowley gave a cheeky smile, obviously trying to lighten the mood. “I could read-” 

“I’m fine.” Aziraphale said sharply. 

Could he do this? He cared so much for Crowley, but could he put himself through the strain and torture of keeping this friendship if it meant having to suffer through the comments of others? And what would happen when Crowley found someone he’d want to be with? It would hurt so very much, knowing that he wanted to be with Crowley, but another held his affections. 

The most obvious answer was just to simply ask Crowley. There were hints that he’d be interested in pursuing… something with Aziraphale. But if he’d misinterpreted Crowley’s behavior then it would crush Aziraphale even more. He couldn’t stand the thought of Crowley knowing about his infatuation, but not reciprocating.

As much as he had enjoyed this friendship. He knew that Crowley would find someone better and Aziraphale would be all but forgotten about. In the end it would hurt so much more if he tried to maintain their friendship. Aziraphale didn’t think he had the strength to be left behind again.

“Sorry, just thought…” Crowley trailed off. “I was just trying to be a friend.” 

“Are we, though?” Aziraphale snapped. “We are nothing alike! Just because we happen to volunteer at the same place a few times a week doesn’t mean that we are friends.”

“Angel, what are you saying?” Crowley’s eyebrows were scrunched in confusion.

“What I am saying is that we have absolutely nothing in common. This friendship makes no sense and I…” Aziraphale sighed and looked away. He didn’t have the courage to look at Crowley. His own mind screamed at him to stop. These were idiotic ideas that had somehow threaded their way into thoughts and if he just took a few minutes to think about it then common sense would return. “And I don’t think this should continue.” 

“Ang- Aziraphale,” Crowley’s voice was low and it sounded pained, “you can’t be serious.”

“Goodbye, Crowley.” 

The air felt heavy and toxic, like an oppressive weight crushing him and making it difficult to breath. He couldn’t look at Crowley, he couldn’t make sense of his own thoughts. Mostly he needed to get out of this car right now and hide inside his shop. Away from this horrible feeling of anguish. 

Aziraphale opened the door and scurried into his bookshop like the frightened cowardly mouse he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not too good with angst so don't worry, this won't last for long. Now for the bad news, I'm going to be out of town this weekend so don't expect an update until next Tuesday. Sorry to leave you on this note for an entire week but I promise it'll be resolved.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with this next chapter, we are almost towards the end! Thanks for all the comments and kudos, I really do appreciate each one. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The remainder of the week was not kind to Aziraphale. He was barely getting any sleep, his mind replaying the events on the car over and over on an endless loop. No matter how many times he had tried to read, his eyes wouldn’t focus on the page and his thoughts wouldn’t settle. 

That wasn’t fair of Aziraphale to be making all the choices for the both of them. But it also wasn’t fair to himself to grow closer to Crowley only to have his heart break because he couldn’t deny these feelings any longer. 

Crowley’s book sat on his desk in the backroom. Every time Aziraphale looked at it, the memories resurfaced and the pain rose anew. He had to return the book, that much was clear. He needed the constant reminder of Crowley out of his shop. 

When Saturday rolled around, Aziraphale dreaded going into the library. He knew the inevitable would occur: he would have to see Crowley and return the book. Part of him didn’t want to, though. Not so much the cowardly part that made him hide from his feelings, but the selfish part that wanted to hang onto it as an excuse to try and talk to Crowley again. He couldn’t though, it had to be returned to its rightful owner. Then said rightful owner would never speak to him again. 

Instead he could continue his life without being bothered by Aziraphale and his self-serving wishes of more. 

When Aziraphale arrived at the Library, he was greeted by not only one, but two angry women glaring from behind the counter.

Anathema’s arms were crossed and she looked downright terrifying. Next to her stood Tracy, her colourful nails tapping on the counter expectantly as Aziraphale approached them. This wasn’t going to be pleasant, even though he didn't know why they were so angry and why their anger seemed to be directed at him.

Having Tracy in on the weekend wasn’t a good sign. She had worked long enough at the Library that she earned being able to take weekends off. The last time she had to come in on a Saturday was when an old pipe burst in the bathroom and nearly flooded the entire building. Tracy had been so irate on the phone with the plumber who installed them a few months before that it terrified Aziraphale. That same gleam in her eye was now locked onto Aziraphale and he could feel a cold shiver run down his spine as if someone just walked over his grave. Only the source of it was most likely from the look that Tracy was casting in his direction. 

“Good morning!” Aziraphale tried for cheery, but even to himself it sounded forced. “Is something the matter?”

“What did you do?” Anathema asked with no preamble.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know-” 

“You damn well do know.”

“Anathema,” Tracy said abruptly. “I think I should be asking.” She turned to Aziraphale and the smile she wore was a little unnerving. It was the same smile that mothers often wore when they felt the need to break out middle names and you knew nothing good would come after. “Aziraphale, dearie. Do you mind telling me why I received a call from Anthony explaining he can no longer teach the cooking class?”

Aziraphale hadn’t meant for that to happen. Truthfully, he thought that Crowley would continue to teach the class and Aziraphale could find another volunteer to help in his place. 

“I didn’t,” Aziraphale clutched Crowley’s book a little tighter, “I didn’t know he’d stop teaching.”

“What do you mean?” Anathema seemed to relax slightly and dropped her arms. A concerned expression took over her face. “Aziraphale what happened?”

Normally, Aziraphale didn’t share too many details of his personal life at work. As a result, Anathema only knew of bits and pieces from what she could gather when they worked together. Tracy, on the other hand, had known him for years. They spent a lot of time together and got to learn all about each other over the years. Aziraphale had learned about her previous job before coming to the library, the one where she held seances and other nonsense, as well as her more discrete work. He never judged her and in return got the same treatment. 

Tracy comforted him through all the heartbreaks that came before, the ones who got bored of Aziraphale, the ones who stopped talking to him without a reason, and the ones who left as soon as something better came along. She was always there for him, so she deserved to know the truth of it all. 

Aziraphale broke down. He told them both the whole story, his feelings towards Crowley, and his decision to end everything. Neither said a word the entire time, and thankfully there didn’t seem to be any customers around to overhear.

“And so you have it.” Aziraphale swallowed hard. “I told him we shouldn’t be friends anymore.” 

“Oh, Aziraphale, sweetie.” Tracy cooed and came around the counter, arms outstretched to give him a hug. Just before he could fall into her embrace, she smacked him upside the head. There was no holding back and Aziraphale felt the sharp sting from her many rings. There would probably be a bruise later. “You are such an idiot.”

“What?” Aziraphale placed a hand on the tender spot on his head, hoping there wasn’t any blood.

“I love you, but how can you be so stupid?” Tracy sounded exasperated. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man try so hard to impress you.”

Now Aziraphale was certain he may have gotten a concussion. Tracy couldn’t possibly mean that, it didn’t make sense. Aziraphale was a commonplace bookshop owner who volunteered at the library, Crowley could do so much better than him. Why on Earth would he waste his time trying to impress someone like Aziraphale?

“No, he can’t possibly!” 

“She’s right, you know.” Anathema spoke up from behind the counter. “He tries so hard, it’s kind of adorable. Like in a pathetic lost puppy kind of way.”

“I don’t understand.” Aziraphale was trying to put everything together in his head, but it just didn’t add up. There was no way that they could be right about this.

“Of course not.” This time, when Tracy reached out her hand, she placed it gently on Aziraphale’s cheek. “But, you have to believe us.”

“Tracy, Anathema. I know you both think that, but I assure you that Crowley would never‒ could never feel the same.”

Anathema sighed. “Are you really just going to stay in denial?”

“I’m not denying anything. It's just a matter of fact.” Aziraphale crossed his arms. There was no point in even entertaining the notion that Crowley would harbor anything towards him.

“Aziraphale, sweetie,” Tracy tried to keep her voice under control, “you know we are only looking out for your best interest, right?” 

“Yes, thank you.” He spoke sharply. “But you don’t have anything to worry about.” 

Anathema shook her head and walked off without another word, whereas Tracy just shot him a withering look that he had grown accustomed to over several years. In the early days of their friendship, that same look would have made Aziraphale immediately apologize and work to rectify the situation. But now he knew there wasn’t really any bite to it, so it really wasn’t effective. 

His morning routine stayed unchanged. After Tracy had left to do some paperwork on the office, he threw himself into his work, trying to forget what they had said. Perhaps Crowley had some type of affection, but it was nothing more than friendship, which Aziraphale effectively ended earlier this week.

But even then, Crowley was just a wonderful person that people seemed to be enamored with. He probably had all sorts of friends. Crowley probably didn’t even care that he ended things. It would all be fine, Aziraphale reassured himself. 

The entire morning passed quickly with no trace of Crowley. Aziraphale was actually getting worried that he wouldn’t show up. But he knew that Crowley wouldn’t actually do that to the children, they would all miss him so much.

Just before the reading circle was scheduled, Crowley walked in and made a beeline for the room. Aziraphale knew something was off, he was wearing his regular shirt and trousers that he usually wore for classes. Perhaps Tracy was right in her assumption that he was trying to impress Aziraphale. He shook his head at that notion. There was actually no way that Crowley felt the same way. After all, the man didn't even spare him a look when he came in.

He did his best to ignore the pain that cinched around his heart like a vice. This was his choice, his decision. Crowley would be better off without Aziraphale getting overly attached.

It wasn’t until Aziraphale was nearly finished with his work that he realised he still hadn’t returned Crowley’s book. He abandoned his cart in the non-fiction section of the library and snatched the book and brought it over to the counter.

His timing couldn’t have been better as the rush of children exiting the reading circle ran right past him once he made it back to the counter. Crowley was already leaving as well, which was unusual for him because he normally stayed behind to chat with the kids or their parents.

“Crowley!” 

Although he stopped walking the moment that Aziraphale called for him, he was looking around the room like some sort of caged zoo animal. Aziraphale stood between him and the door to block his escape route. 

“What do you want?” Crowley mumbled as soon as Aziraphale was within earshot.

“Well, I.” He held the book a little tighter, hesitant in letting it go. 

This was now the one piece of connection he had with Crowley. Once it was returned, there was no reason they should talk again. As much as Aziraphale insisted they shouldn’t be friends, he didn’t really want to lose this connection. It was something he could hold onto, a hope that one day everything could be okay again. However, he knew that wasn’t going to happen. He had to return the book and sever the ties that held them together.

“Listen, I’m kinda busy right now.” Crowley’s tone was flat.

“Oh. Yes, well.” The scowl Crowley wore spoke volumes, and Aziraphale sagged his shoulders in defeat. Maybe it would be better to ask Anathema to return the book next time. “It’s nothing, my dear.” 

“Don’t.” Crowley snapped back at him. “You have absolutely no right.”

“No right to what?”

“To call me that.” Crowley’s voice was shaking. Even through the glasses, Aziraphale could feel his stare. They had known each other long enough that even with his expression half masked, the pain was still evident. “Last time you spoke to me, you said we shouldn’t even be friends. And now you have the audacity to use that like nothing changed?” 

“I assure you, that was not the intention.” He could feel his chest crack in two, and the weeks of repressed emotions tried to flood through. It took everything in Aziraphale to not break down on the spot. Again, he reminded himself why he made this decision.

“Are you trying to hurt me or something?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Forget it.” There was a slight tremble to Crowley’s hands and the ache in his voice leaked through.

“No, I will not forget it.” Aziraphale was determined to figure out why Crowley sounded the way he did. “Please just talk to me.”

“Talk to you? After everything?” Crowley scoffed.

“But-”

“No! You don’t get to tell me we aren’t friends then turn around and want to talk.” The raised voices were starting to draw the attention of those in the library. “It doesn’t work like that, Aziraphale.”

He brushed past Aziraphale as quickly as possible, but just as he approached the door, there was a pause. Aziraphale watched as Crowley looked back at him with a fiery expression. In a matter of seconds, Crowley came in close, forcing Aziraphale to back up against the counter. With such a small distance separating the two, Aziraphale could clearly see the hurt lurking beneath his anger. 

“I don’t let people get close to me. Hell, I probably haven’t let anyone get that close to me before. And now it’s done, and I can deal with that in my own way. But you want to know the worst part?” He slammed his hands down on the counter, bracketing him in place. “I have no idea why. I don’t know what I did to make you hate me all of a sudden.”

“I don’t‒”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m leaving Aziraphale. And you know what, I won’t even think about you anymore.” With that, he turned and left. 

Aziraphale seemed to be rooted on the spot. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. There was no need for such an extreme reaction, obviously Crowley had a reason to be upset at the end of their friendship, but that was more than Aziraphale thought it would be. 

“I’ve been there, mate,” Greg, the volunteer who came in on the weekends to manage the social media of the library, said. “You’re better off without him.” He gave Aziraphale a pat on the shoulder before heading back to the empty classroom with his laptop to work. 

The first thing he did was seek out Tracy in her office. He didn’t even bother to knock, just opened the door and took the empty seat in the office. It took a moment for her to save whatever she was doing on the computer before giving her full attention to Aziraphale.

“Are you okay, dearie? You look a bit worse for wear.” Tracy had a reassuring smile.

“Not really, if I’m being honest. I just spoke with Crowley.”

Tracy opened the bottom drawer of her desk, took out two glasses and a bottle of whiskey that must have been hidden in there. “Tell me everything.” She poured them each a drink as Aziraphale started to recount the interaction.

“I just don’t really understand why he reacted the way he did.” Aziraphale’s drink remained on the desk, untouched. It felt a little wrong to be drinking in the library. On the other hand, Tracy obviously held no such qualms, as she polished off her own drink. 

“Put yourself in his shoes a moment. You two were friends, then out of the blue, you call it all off. He has every right to be upset.”

“Yes, but… it just doesn't make sense. No one gets that upset over a friendship.”

“You’re right, perhaps he was hopeful for something more?” 

“Tracy, we’ve been over this. There is no possible way for that to be the case.”

Even as Aziraphale spoke, a few pieces started to fall in place. All the events of the previous weeks took on a slightly different hue. Crowley showing up to the classes, perhaps it was just an excuse to see Aziraphale. Or him being so insistent on giving Aziraphale a ride home, trying to stretch the little bit of time they had together as much as possible. The teasing, the smiles, cooking for him. All these little things seemed to mean so much more once Aziraphale opened himself to the possibility that Crowley wanted to be with him as well. It was actually rather painfully obvious.

And Aziraphale was an idiot. 

Quickly, he picked up the glass and finished off his whiskey in a single drink. 

“Let’s say, hypothetically, that there may be some truth to what you are implying.” Aziraphale took a steadying breath. “And I just ended everything because of my own foolishness. What do I do?”

Tracy refilled his glass before reaching out and placing a calming hand on his arm which rested on the desk. 

“He looked so hurt, Tracy. How could I have done that to him?” Aziraphale felt disgusted with himself.

“Everyone’s got their reasons for doing the things they do. Tell me yours.”

Aziraphale took a few moments to consider his words before answering. “I realised that my feelings for Crowley were more than just friendship, but I never thought he’d feel the same. I thought it would be for the best to end whatever we had before it became too much for me.” His head fell into his hands. “To save myself from a heartbreak later on.”

Tracy brought her own chair around the desk and sat next to Aziraphale, gently rubbing his back, trying to soothe the tight ball of nerves in his stomach. 

“Just because you’ve had some bad luck in the past doesn’t mean it’ll happen again. You’re so concerned with the heartache you think would happen, that you are completely missing the happiness that  _ is _ happening. He makes you happy doesn’t he, Aziraphale?”

When Aziraphale tried to speak, he found that his voice deserted him. All he could do was nod softly, thinking of all the hours he had spent with Crowley just talking and laughing. He had never gotten along with anyone so easily before.

“But.” Even Aziraphale could hear the crack of his voice. 

“Do me a favor, love. Just talk to him.” 

“He won’t talk to me.” 

“Then we’ll find a way, don’t you worry.” With that Tracy gave him a hug to try and calm his nerves. It didn’t really work, but he appreciated the gesture anyway. 

He had to apologise. He had to find a way to talk to Crowley and apologise. Beg, if need be. He would do anything to get Crowley back into his life. Hopefully, it wasn’t too late.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the Kudos and Comments! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

The shrill sounds of an alarm pulled Crowley from sleep more abruptly than he would have preferred. He scrambled to grab his phone and shut the blasted thing off. He’d drank far too much last night, and his head was killing him. Once it was silenced, he tossed the phone vaguely in the direction of the night stand, but it missed and clattered to the floor. He didn’t care. 

It was the day he had been dreading for an entire week. It was Saturday. 

That meant he would have to crawl out of this warm bed and show his face at the library again. It had been a full week since he saw Aziraphale last, a full week of coming home to his cold and empty flat without going to the library, a full week of not hearing Aziraphale’s laugh, not being able to tease him, and not seeing that adorable smile of his. He couldn’t even manage to show up at either Tracy or Anathema’s class. He reasoned that since he wasn’t an actual volunteer, just a participant who helped from time to time, that he wasn’t really needed for those classes. 

Tracy did ask when he called in to cancel his class and he almost agreed to come in for those, but he ultimately made some flimsy excuse about being too busy with work. Doubt was evident in the tone of her voice, but she didn’t say anything, something that Crowley was grateful for. He wasn’t didn’t want to talk about what happened.

After spending so many weeks with Aziraphale, it was almost impossible to adjust back to his previous life and it put him in a perpetually foul mood. Even Warlock had made some comments about how grumpy Crowley was, which only served to make him even more irritable. It wasn’t something that could easily be explained to a child either, but at least Crowley had been cunning enough to send him on a search for a particular flower that didn’t exist in the garden. That had kept him occupied for a while and Crowley had been able to dodge any other questions. 

Surprisingly enough, getting absolutely plastered by himself on a Friday night and moping around the flat in pity didn’t do much to lift his spirits.

He knew that he’d eventually get over Aziraphale. Even though he really didn’t want to.

Aziraphale was the first person that Crowley had been open and honest with. Sure there were some that came close, but none like Aziraphale. He remembered Cynthia who left shortly after learning about his job, claiming it was a bit weird that a man would want to work with children. Or Tom who insisted Crowley keep his sunglasses on since his eyes unnerved him. The closest thing he had to something real before Aziraphale was Marcus, who was ‘okay’ with the eyes and job. But just okay. Like it was something he could learn to live with over time, much like a quirk, and not a part of who Crowley was. 

He was beginning to think that no one would ever accept him for who he was.

Then came this grumpy librarian, clad in too much tartan and beige, who insulted him and reprimanded him for his reading choices. But he never found it odd that Crowley volunteered at the reading circle, even though he had no kids of his own that attended. And he was so kind, Crowley would see the way he helped people picking out books, or how much he cared for his friends, or even in how he indulged Crowley on his bizarre conversation topics. Never judging him as a person, just in his choice of books to read to the kids. And it felt wonderful to feel like he could be himself for a change. 

So he took the chance. He showed Aziraphale his eyes and, for the first time in his life, they were called beautiful. Sure he’d heard things like intriguing, unique, interesting, but never beautiful. Crowley didn’t know how to respond. It felt like a hole opened up in his chest and the years of repressing who he was came pouring out. He knew that Aziraphale liked who he was as a person and Crowley could leave his comfort zone and be vulnerable. 

It was something Crowley had never been able to deal with before. Usually he’d hide behind his cocky demeanor, and swagger, and hope that no one knew how to see through it.

Only Aziraphale had managed to.

Although his years of training himself to never open up to other people still caused him to fall back to his default setting of ‘trying too hard’. He thought Aziraphale would have picked on the fact that his outrageous and ridiculous clothing choices were a pathetic attempt to catch him off guard, or make him flustered, or even get him to flirt back. There were a few times that Crowley thought he did, but he must have been misreading the situation.

After all, Aziraphale didn’t even want to be his friend.

He groaned at the memory and pulled himself out of bed. He could just cancel the reading circle for today, explain that something came up and he couldn’t make it. But he couldn’t do that to the kids. Canceling the cooking class was one thing, he only really did that as an excuse to be able to spend more time with Aziraphale, but the reading circle was something else. Those kids really liked him, and the stories he read. They wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t come in because he wanted to stay home and wallow in self-pity since he was apparently still a teenager who got upset when his crush didn’t like him back.

No, he would go to the reading circle. And like last week, he would just show up, read the stories, then leave. He had to avoid Aziraphale at all costs. It had been hard enough last week when Aziraphale had wanted to talk. Crowley knew he shouldn’t have acted the way he did, but he was hurt and a part of him wanted to make sure Aziraphale was well aware of that fact. He knew that, this time, he would pour everything out, he’d tell Aziraphale about how he felt and how much he wanted‒ no  _ needed _ ‒ to be with him. It would be painful to declare everything, only to be crushed by someone who didn’t even want to be his friend.

Crowley growled as he pulled his clothes from the closet a little more roughly than he should have.

It was fine. Or at least it would be fine. Eventually. When Crowley could finally get Aziraphale out of his head, then it would be fine. 

He managed to keep down some coffee and a few aspirins before heading out the door to the library.

XXXXX

The next thing Crowley knew, he was sitting in his Bentley in the parking lot of the library. He was staring at the time on his phone and just waiting. The past few weeks he’d ended up making a habit of arriving early just so he could bug Aziraphale for a few moments. Now, he just hid in his car until the last moment, like the mature adult he was.

When Crowley walked in, he expected to see Aziraphale somewhere nearby. Usually he was hard at work on checking in books, but the only one at the desk was Anathema. There was no sight nor sound of Aziraphale.

Good. That was good. It had to be, right? Aziraphale must have gotten the hint from last Saturday. So they would no longer see each other anymore. That would make it easier, he supposed.

Truth be told, Crowley was mad at himself for his behavior last week. Part of him wished he would have given Aziraphale even just a few minutes to talk. Maybe he still wanted to be friends. 

Crowley shook his head at the thought. Aziraphale himself said they weren’t friends, Crowley had to get over it and move on. 

Even if he didn’t want to.

As soon as Crowley walked into the reading room, he was intercepted by Charity. 

“Crowley!” She smiled brightly. “I am so happy that you are here. After the cancellation of the cooking class, we were all a bit worried if you were going to be here today or someone else.” 

“You know how busy work can be,” Crowley lied. “But I wouldn’t miss this.” 

It was then that he realized what felt different in the room. As Charity made her way back to the other parents that lined the walls, Crowley’s eyes fell on Aziraphale who was sitting in the chair in the back of the room. Crowley could feel a lump in his throat, unsure of what to say. There was a notebook placed in his lap, and he watched Crowley expectantly. His feet moved without his permission until he was standing in front of Aziraphale. 

“Hello Crowley.” Aziraphale had the nerve to sound so calm and collected. Meanwhile, Crowley was trying his damndest to fight every impulse in his body to run. Just turn tail and bolt, never to see Aziraphale again. “I have been doing a lot of thinking this past week. And I know you probably don’t want to talk to me, which is understandable.” 

“An- Aziraphale,” Crowley had to correct himself over and over again on the name. Just because he was lucky enough to be able to call him angel for a short while didn’t mean he still got to. “I don’t think now is appropriate.” 

“I know, and I won’t comment on the irony of that sentence.” He smiled hesitantly. “But I was hoping you would allow me to read a story first. Just one, then you’ll have the rest of your time and you won’t have to talk to me again. If you don’t want to.”

Aziraphale was looking down at the notebook, fiddling with the corner of it. Even his little nervous fidgety habits were ridiculously adorable, like when he did that thing where he would straighten his bow tie before making a comment. Every time Crowley would have to stop himself from reaching out to mess it up just to make him do it again.

That was when Aziraphale did something that, frankly, should have been illegal. Aziraphale looked up at Crowley, his beautiful blue eyes pleading and almost watery. He looked like a sad puppy who had just gotten scolded. Crowley would have to be heartless to deny him any request. There was no way that he had the strength to say no, Aziraphale looked so hurt and any resolve that Crowley had crumbled apart.

He sighed and nodded, not really trusting himself to be able to form any coherent words.

Aziraphale lit up. His smile could have outshone the sun if they were outside, but they were inside, so it lit the entire room and made Crowley's chest constrict painfully. 

Crowley settled down on the carpet and a few of the kids swarmed around him instantly. One even asked to sit in his lap, which Crowley allowed, before giving his attention to Aziraphale.

“Mr. Crowley?” Sarah, Charity’s daughter, said sitting down next to him. “Aren’t you going to read?”

“Mr. Fell is going to read,” he answered. There were a few sounds of disappointment, and Aziraphale seemed to shrink in on himself a touch. “But don’t worry, he’ll do a great job and I’ll read after.” 

“‘Kay,” she said, but didn’t look too thrilled about it.

Crowley looked at Aziraphale, but he seemed a lot more hesitant about the whole thing now. Silently, he nodded encouragement and hoped that Aziraphale could understand him. It seemed to work. 

Aziraphale cracked open the small book and began to read. “This story is called ‘The Two Knights’.” Not the most creative of titles, but the kids probably wouldn’t care too much. “Once upon a time-”

One of the young boys shot his hand up and Aziraphale stopped talking right away. “You asposta tell us who it's by. Mr. Crowley always tells us.” 

“Oh, I suppose you're right. Well, it's by...” he was looking a little cagey again and Crowley had no idea why, “me,” he finished and Crowley was about to have a heart attack on the spot. 

Not only was Aziraphale volunteering to read to the kids, something which he had said he’d never do again. But he was reading a story he wrote himself. If Crowley wasn’t already absolutely head over heels for his man, then this would have been it. The moment he fell so hard that he’d probably crack the pavement on impact. 

“So I’ll try again.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, picked up the book and started over. “The Two Knights, by Aziraphale Fell.” This time there were no interruptions.

“Once upon a time, there were two neighboring kingdoms. These kingdoms were at war with each other and would send knights out to convert people to their side. One kingdom sent the White Knight who traveled to spread peace and tranquility. And the other sent the Black Knight who would spread discord and ferment.” 

Another hand shot up. “Whassat?” 

“What?” Aziraphale looked confused, he probably wasn’t expected to be stopped about a million times during the story, but that was what happened when you were surrounded by tiny humans who lacked any impulse control. “Ferment? It’s like, um. Well, it’s…”

“Opposite of peace,” Crowley chimed in. “They’re opposites, the two knights. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.” Aziraphale gasped which made Crowley laugh, completely forgetting he was still supposed to be upset. “I only read a little bit, don’t look so shocked.”

There was a chorus of ‘oohs’ then everyone’s eyes were back on Aziraphale, who looked very grateful for the save. 

“Even though these two knights should have hated each other, they didn’t. As soon as they met, they became friends.” Aziraphale looked up at Crowley again, and he could feel his stomach flutter. 

How could Aziraphale just look at him like that, like he was worried about Crowley’s opinion on the book. Crowley wanted to reach out, place a hand over his and tell him to keep going. But he was firmly grounded to the spot. Just nodding slightly every time Aziraphale looked at him for guidance.

As he became more comfortable with the story, there was a change in Aziraphale’s demeanor. His reading was more fluid, using the breaks and pauses in his voice to convey the emotion. The characters were given silly little voices that made the children giggle. Apparently the White Knight sounded like a higher pitch of his own speaking voice, whereas the Black Knight suspiciously sounded like a poor attempt at Crowley’s. 

The story was simple. The two friends on opposite sides working together when needed, hiding their friendship from the other knights in their kingdom, but escaping from time to time in order to be together. 

Then, a young boy stood up and walked over to Aziraphale. Crowley recalled that his name was Miguel. 

“Can I help?” he asked. Aziraphale looked a bit taken aback and glanced at Crowley for help. Crowley just smiled.

“I suppose you could,” Aziraphale held out the book and the boy frowned. 

“It’s just scribbles.”

Aziraphale laughed, “It's cursive, young man. You probably haven’t learned to read it yet.”

“Can I hold it?” Aziraphale nodded and handed the book to him. “Up?” 

Crowley nearly had a laughing fit at the panicked look on Aziraphale's face at that request. It was obvious how wildly out of his depth he was, but still he nodded and helped the boy to sit in his lap. The story continued when they were settled, and Aziraphale directed him when to turn the page.

And that was it. Crowley clearly must have died and went to heaven. That was the only explanation for seeing this wonderful man being such a good role model for these young children. No matter what Aziraphale had said, he was an angel. A real angel.

Crowley didn’t have a good family growing up, parents who did nothing but fight. No real siblings to speak of, but a few cousins who he didn’t get along with. He left home as soon as he was able to scrape up enough money and never looked back. All he wanted in life was that chance at having a real family, people that he could be close to and share his life with. At that moment, he knew he wanted that.

With Aziraphale. 

There was nothing more in the world that Crowley could ever hope for as long as he could come home from work and tell Aziraphale about his day. As long as they could cook dinner together and share a bottle of wine long into the night, letting the conversation flow freely. And of course, to fall asleep wrapped safely in Aziraphale arms. That was what Crowley wanted. He hoped, and prayed, that Aziraphale would want that, too.

“And so the two knights faced each other. ‘We can’t be friends, we’re on opposite sides,’ the White Knight said. ‘And I don’t even like you!’” 

Crowley chuckled at how seriously Aziraphale was taking this, it was so sweet.

“‘You do!’ The Black Knight spoke back. But it was too late, the White Knight had made his choice. Their kingdoms were about to go to war and he had to pick a side, even if he felt like he was picking the wrong one. ‘It's over, we’re done.’”

If Crowley wasn’t mistaken, there seemed to be actual tears forming in Aziraphale’s eyes. He ached to hold Aziraphale close, to place a kiss on his forehead and to tell him that everything would be alright. Tell him that they could forget the fight and pick up where they left off. Whether he was talking about real life or the book was beyond him right now.

In the story the White Knight went back to his kingdom only to discover they were hatching a plan to destroy the other kingdom, but it would mean the village in the middle of them would be destroyed as well. He valiantly fought against his own kingdom and escaped. On the other side, the Black Knight discovered a similar plan and fought against that side. 

Together, the knights found each other and worked together to put an end to the war. Apparently Aziraphale had figured out some peaceful solution, but Crowley wasn’t paying much attention to the details anymore. All he could do was stare at Aziraphale and hope that his face wasn’t betraying his thoughts. 

His mind flooded with images of him and Aziraphale, wrapped up together. Aziraphale's soothing voice reading to him while Crowley rested his head on his chest completely at peace. Or taking Aziraphale out to a nice restaurant, or cooking for him, letting him indulge in whatever he wanted. Listening to those soft moans and hums was something that Crowley could never hear enough of. The first time Aziraphale had taken a bite of something Crowley made was stunning. It caught him off guard but Crowley knew he wanted to hear more of it. 

“And so, the two knights saved the land. And they remained friends for the rest of their lives. The end.” 

There were the sounds of clapping and Crowley suddenly became aware of where they were again. 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale helped the boy back onto the floor and stood up. “I’ll just leave you all to your regular volunteer.” He gave a reserved smile, almost as if he wasn’t sure what to do next.

Meanwhile Crowley was able to reboot his brain and ushered the kids surrounding him to move, so he could scramble to stand. He reached out and grabbed Aziraphale’s arm to stop him from moving. 

“A-” Crowley wanted to say it, but wasn’t sure if he was allowed. Oh, screw it all. Crowley knew exactly what he wanted, and he thought that Aziraphale would want the same thing. “Angel.”

“If you want to talk, Crowley,” Aziraphale’s eyes looked hopeful, “please come to my shop later on.”

He nodded and Aziraphale smiled before leaving. 

Crowley couldn’t get his mind to settle, he took out the book of Grimm Fairy Tales and completely forgot which ones he was planning on reading that day. Instead he sat in the seat, children looking up expectantly, and he looked out the glass windows at Aziraphale’s retreating back. 

What he wasn’t expecting to see was one of the parents at the reading circle walking out after him. Crowley recognized him as a regular who came to the cooking class as well, the one always volunteering to help Aziraphale. He handed Aziraphale a slip of paper and made the universal ‘call me’ sign before returning to the room.

As much as he wanted to rush out there and tell Jaime to back off, he wasn’t able to with all eyes on him. So instead he just sat there throwing vaguely threatening glares every so often in his direction.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the support! In this chapter they finally talk, I hope you enjoy!

Back at the bookshop Aziraphale finished restoring some books on one of the shelves, making sure that all dust was cleaned off, and took a step back. In the past hour, Aziraphale had attempted to read several books in a futile effort to distract himself. Every time he sat down and opened a book, his mind would wander, every slight movement from the other side of the window made him jump up and check to see if Crowley was going to show up. Eventually, he found that cleaning all the bookshelves in the shop did enough of a trick to distract him sufficiently.

The plan at the library had seemed to go off without any issues, but now all he could do was wait. Tracy and Anathema had helped him the entire week on how he could apologize to Crowley without being brushed off. They all knew he would still be there for his reading circle — he cared so much about the children after all — so they hatched the idea of apologizing using a story. Only when Aziraphale was trying to find a story, nothing seemed to work. So he wrote his own. He stayed up all night to write the story, trying to pour his feelings and regrets into it while still remaining a story for kids. He didn’t bother to open the shop the next day, claiming he needed to rest. Truthfully though, Aziraphale just didn’t have the energy to talk to other people.

Tracy called everyday, just to check in on him, but he was able to find an excuse to hang up after a few minutes. Even though he was grateful for his friends, he still just needed some alone time to reflect. 

Now, while waiting and cleaning, the images of Crowley at the reading circle flashed before him. Aziraphale didn’t know how to interpret any of Crowley's behavior during it. It seemed like he was encouraging him, nodding from time to time, which helped calm his nerves. But there wasn’t any reason why Crowley should be that nice, not after what Aziraphale had done.

Honestly, when he had finally understood everything, Aziraphale felt ashamed of his actions. He had been too wrapped up in his own denial to understand what Crowley was trying to do. It was an appalling behavior, and Crowley had every right to leave Aziraphale waiting indefinitely. 

All he could do was hope that wasn’t the case. 

And so he waited, nervously, to see if Crowley was going to come to the bookshop. The cleaning spree seemed to be the only suitable distraction, and he hoped that putting in this much manual labor would tire him out enough to actually get some sleep. 

Just as the last books were placed onto the shelf, the jingle of his bell indicated that someone had entered his store. Aziraphale gently placed the book that was in his hand onto the stack on the floor and walked towards the front of the room.

Crowley was standing in front of the door, haloed by the bright glow of the sun which made the red of his hair look alive. Those sunglasses were still firmly fixed in place, blocking Aziraphale from seeing his golden brown and green eyes. It almost felt like a barrier to protect himself.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began and had no clue how to end that sentence, instead he smiled warmly.

“Angel.” Crowley still looked cautious, but the use of his nickname made Aziraphale feel like there could be some hope. And he didn’t even realise how much he had missed that silly name until it was gone. If Aziraphale had the choice, he’d want to hear Crowley say it for the rest of his life.

They just stared at each other for a moment, until his instincts kicked in and realised what a terrible host he was being.

“Tea?” Aziraphale asked, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice. “I have some in the backroom.”

“Er- Sure?” 

When Aziraphale walked into the backroom, he could hear Crowley almost silently following a few paces behind him. It felt strange, not only to have him in the shop, but in his private backroom. Like it was oddly intimate. Actually, Aziraphale couldn’t remember the last person, besides Tracy, who had been allowed access to his room. 

The air felt strange in a way, like it settled heavily around them, allowing Aziraphale to feel Crowley’s presence as he busied himself with the kettle he kept in the kitchenette there rather than his flat upstairs. Crowley walked around the room, the soft falls of his shoes the only other sound besides the ones Aziraphale was making. He hoped he wasn't judged too harshly on the disorganised mess of books and papers that filled the room more than it was appropriate.

“Sorry about the mess.” Aziraphale tried to think of some type of excuse, but failed.

“It’s not messy. I mean, a little cluttered but, you know, entropy and all that.” He chuckled lightly which relaxed Aziraphale more than anything. “It just looks well-lived in.”

“Please, have a seat. Would you like milk or sugar for your tea?”

“Nah, I’m fine without.” The springs of the old couch creaked and groaned as Crowley sat down. “How long have you had the shop?”

The conservation continued while Aziraphale waited for the water to finish boiling. Everything felt like it was going to be okay. There wasn’t hostility in Crowley’s voice, which put Aziraphale’s mind at ease with every passing moment. 

Once the tea was ready, and Aziraphale got two clean cups, he turned and was surprised by how much at home Crowley looked. He could easily imagine them on this couch reading together, or cuddling, or rather a number of  _ other _ things. But he wouldn’t dare voice it, not yet anyway. He knew his own feelings, but needed to hear Crowley’s. 

Both Anathema and Tracy had insisted that Crowley felt the same. After what Aziraphale did though, there was a possibility that he no longer felt that way.

The cups were placed on the table and Aziraphale sat on the opposite end of the couch trying to be comfortable, but the moment he realised how close they were next to each other he became much too tense. And much too restless. Even he could tell he was fidgeting too much with his cufflink.

Crowley didn’t look much better. His leg was bouncing anxiously and he didn’t dare reach for his tea cup. The tension in the room was overwhelming, but Aziraphale knew it was up to him to break it. After all, he invited Crowley over to talk, so he needed to be the one to talk.

“I wanted to apologise.” He looked down at his hands resting in his lap rather than at Crowley. “For my actions. They were uncalled for.”

Hesitantly, he looked over, expecting Crowley to be looking back. Instead he was staring at his tea as if it held all the answers to life’s mysteries. Aziraphale continued.

“I do consider you to be my friend, and I shouldn’t have said otherwise.” He straightened his bow tie trying to gather his strength. “I hope we can go back to being friends, at least.”

Crowley growled and dropped his head on the back of the couch to stare at the ceiling. “Of course we could still be friends, angel. I never wanted to stop being friends, dunno where that even came from.”

Aziraphale sighed, he needed to stop being a coward and just tell Crowley how he felt. Only it was rather difficult to say it without sounding like he was still in primary school passing notes to each other. ‘I like you and if you like me too check the box yes.’ It felt silly, but Aziraphale needed to.

“I was afraid, Crowley,” he admitted. This made Crowley sit up more properly, he actually attempted to make eye contact with Aziraphale, even though his sunglasses obstructed the view. “Recently, I found myself… developing feelings. Towards you. And I knew they could never be reciprocated so-” 

Crowley reached out and grabbed Aziraphale's forearm. Crowley’s eyebrows were raised over the sunglasses, mouth parted. 

“Angel,” he began a little roughly, “what do you mean?”

“You have always been kind to me, and I found myself growing fond of you.” He looked away, heart racing in his chest, threatening to burst right through the rib cage. It was difficult for Aziraphale to put himself out there, where the wrong word could tear him to pieces, but he needed to. For his sake, and for Crowley's sake. “I shouldn’t have mistaken your kindness for anything other than what it was.”

Crowley actually chuckled. “Yes, you should have.”

In just a few seconds, Crowley managed to move closer to Azirapale. He dragged his hand from where it was placed on Aziraphale’s arm to his hand just allowing it to rest there. With his free hand Crowley removed his sunglasses and placed them on the table next to their forgotten teas. Aziraphale was enamored with the beauty of his perfectly imperfect eyes. 

“Angel, if I wasn’t interested then why would I go out of my way to talk to you at the library, or to bring you tea when you looked particularly tired, or drive you home, or literally anything else I did?”

“I just thought you were being nice,” Aziraphale spoke softly. 

“And tell me, who else have I been nice to?”

“Well, the people who come to your class.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause I have to be. I’ve been chewed out more than enough times by parents or even Tracy, after I received who knows how many complaints. Now I just smile politely and laugh at the lame jokes, so I don’t get kicked out. Warlock would be awfully upset, if I did.”

“Oh,” was all Aziraphale managed to say. 

He hadn’t thought of that. Crowley had been volunteering for months long before Aziraphale switched from Sundays to Saturdays, and he did mention before that parents complained. But Aziraphale always assumed that Crowley would just brush off those complaints and move on. It seemed like there was a little more to the story. 

“So if I am to understand correctly,” Aziraphale’s own mind finally registered what Crowley had said earlier. “I have feelings for you,” Crowley nodded. “A-and you also share these feelings.”

“Yeah, I-I think that about sums it up.”

The air felt charged between them, like the build of electricity in the clouds moments before lightning erupted and hit Earth. Aziraphale felt gooseflesh erupt all over as Crowley gently cupped his jaw. Their eyes locked and he wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss him, to feel Crowley pressed against him, to hold him so tenderly. There was a pause though, Crowley wasn’t moving to close the distance and Aziraphale waited for permission.

“Angel,” Crowley said almost reverently, “I want to kiss you.” 

“Yes,” Aziraphale breathed out.

“But.” Aziraphale almost pulled away from Crowley’s touch at that. All the energy left and Aziraphale suddenly felt foolish for leaning so close to Crowley. He looked up into those mismatched eyes, but didn’t see any shame or regret. “I have to warn you, angel. If I kiss you, I won't be able to stop.”

Aziraphale really didn’t see an issue with that, he wouldn’t want to stop kissing Crowley either.

“I’ll want to...” Crowley moved closer, which was an almost impossible feat. Now all Aziraphale could notice was the warm heat of Crowley’s body, only a few millimetres of separation between them. “I’m greedy Aziraphale, if I kiss you. I’ll always want to kiss you, to hold you. I’ll want to take you out to dinner so I can enjoy your company. To spend all my time with you arguing over books or whatever else you please. And to fall asleep in your arms. If,” he swallowed and closed his eyes, “if you don’t want that, please tell me now. It would hurt far too much to be given hope only to have it taken away.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale covered his hand over Crowley’s which stayed firmly in place on his cheek, “I do, I want all of that with you.”

Crowley let out a shaky breath and smiled slightly, just a small uptick in the corner of his mouth. That small movement was enough to make Aziraphale break. Without thinking, he removed his hand and pulled on Crowley’s shirt hard enough to close the distance.

No matter how many times Aziraphale imagined this moment, all his fantasies paled in comparison. Crowley was pressed against him, lips warm and wondrous against his own. The electricity which had been gathering in the air seemed to touch ground and run a bolt of lightning down his spine. Aziraphale pushed forward even more trying to deepen the kiss, wanting more. He wanted Crowley’s hands to tangle in his hair, to drag across his thighs, to hold him close and never let go. 

It was more than that, though. Every suggestion that Crowley said earlier, that was what Aziraphale truly wanted. He never dared to hope that Crowley would want an actual relationship, no one ever wanted that from Aziraphale. But now here he was, with someone who wanted everything that Aziraphale wished for.

Eventually they separated, breathing hard and letting the silence of the shop settle around them. Crowley rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s. Somehow his free hand found its way to Crowley’s thigh and he feared removing it would have shattered the delicate air between them. Instead they stayed exactly how they were. Aziraphale tried to calm his heartbeat down, but was failing every time Crowley shifted to press a delicate chaste kiss on his lips.

For reasons unknown to himself, Aziraphale thought that the most important sentence to say right now was, “I finished your book.”

“What?” Crowley moved his head away just enough to reveal a confused expression.

“Your book.” Aziraphale pointed at his desk where the green, freshly restored family heirloom sat. “It's finished.”

“So I suppose that means I get to take you out to dinner then?” Crowley smirked and placed another kiss on his lips. 

“Well, if you're offering.”

Aziraphale wasn’t sure who moved first, but after a little shuffling they found a more comfortable position. Crowley ended up laying back on the couch and Aziraphale curled up against his chest, letting himself be wrapped up in Crowley’s embrace and taking in the pleasant rosewood scent that seemed to surround him.

“Although what would I wear?” Crowley teased and he stroked Aziraphale’s hair. “I think you’ve seen all my best outfits.”

“Oh, good lord,” Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t know what you were thinking.”

“Mostly thinking that you’d take notice eventually.” He kissed the top of Aziraphale’s head. “And it musta worked or else I wouldn’t be here now.”

“I assure you, they did not.”

“So what did then?” 

“It was you. The way you cared so much, how good you were with the kids. How kind you were to me.”

“Angel,” Crowley’s voice cracked as if he was not expecting something so sincere. 

They spent a long while tangled up together on the couch. Alternating between talking and kissing. When it became completely dark outside, Crowley suggested it was time for him to leave, but Aziraphale wasn’t ready. He asked Crowley to stay just a bit longer. As night progressed and the conversation lulled, Aziraphale just enjoyed being close with Crowley. Listening to his heartbeat, feeling the rumble of his chest as they talked, the feel of Crowley’s fingers running through his hair, and just letting himself feel happy. Without meaning to, Aziraphale closed his eyes.

It was one of the best nights of sleep he had gotten in a long, long time.


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the delay, I had some things come up this weekend which prevented me from posting. But thank you everyone for all the support and kind words for this story. It was so much fun to write and I hope everyone enjoyed this journey.

Crowley stood in front of the cooking class, not paying attention to the skillet that was on the burner. Instead his eyes watched Aziraphale as he moved through the participants, helping when needed, giving encouragement, or just striking up a conversation with others. Honestly, he had no idea how Aziraphale could be so charming all the time.

And now Crowley had permission to get lost in his thoughts of all that charm. They had been dating for a few months, and the nerves that Crowley felt on their first date may have subsided since that time, but had never fully gone away. His stomach still flipped every time Aziraphale paused what he was doing to give him a gentle smile, or a kiss in passing at the library as they went to their‒ sometimes separate, sometimes together‒ volunteer duties.

The best part though, in Crowley's opinion, was being able to go home with Aziraphale afterwards. Not just for the obvious reason, but just being able to spend time with Aziraphale was a gift that Crowley cherished.

With all the past failed relationships, Crowley never got the chance to play house, so to speak. He’d never been able to tell anyone about his day at work, or cook alongside someone else, or even spend an evening wrapped up together talking or watching a movie. There was a peaceful simplicity to it that Crowley thought he'd never actually get to experience.

Of course they didn't spend every night together. Sometimes they would each go to their respective homes after work, but Crowley always got to talk to Aziraphale, even if it was a brief phone call or text message to wish him a good night.

“Crowley?” Charity asked from the front row, bringing him back to reality. “I think your chicken is burning.”

“Wot?” He looked down to see the pieces darken much more than he was aiming for. “Shit!” He yanked the pan off the grill on the counter hoping the dish would instantly stop burning. It didn't. “Totally meant to do that.”

“Of course!” Charity winked at him. “Obviously not distracted in any way.”

Crowley did admit that he was thankful that Charity was understanding about his relationship with Aziraphale. He learned about her crush on him when, after one of the reading circles, they were talking and Aziraphale came in to see if Crowley was able to help him with the book returns‒ something he always did‒ and planted a kiss on his cheek before leaving. 

The moment Crowley saw shock on her face he put two and two together about why she always talked to him.

Although that did lead to a discussion later that night. While Crowley didn't mind the little possessive gestures such as that, he knew that jealousy was an ugly thing if left unchecked. He wound up having to admit his own jealousy towards the amount of time Jaime spent with Aziraphale. When they discovered that neither was interested in anyone else, it was easy enough to work through.

“Okay class!” Crowley called for everyone's attention. “Once you have your chicken cooked, hopefully better than mine, you can add the veggies of your choosing to your stir fry.” He put the pan back on the heat and realized that he may have been a bit more distracted than usual, since he failed to prepare any vegetables for this.

Aziraphale appeared at his side with a bowl of cut up broccoli, snow peas, and carrots. 

“Thought you might need these.”

“Anyone ever told you, you're the world's best sous chef?” Aziraphale just beamed at the comment. “Or the world's best boyfriend?”

“Actually I do recall someone telling me that recently.” Aziraphale's smile shifted to a playful grin.

“Oh, a reliable source?”

“Partially. He does volunteer at a library reading to children, which is very sweet.”

“The man's practically a saint.”

“But only reads horror stories.”

“Sounds like fun.”

“And I do believe he's burning the chicken.”

“Damn it!” Crowley once again removed the dish from the burner and scowled at the even more burnt poultry. This was going to be completely inedible, and it would be all Aziraphale's fault for being so distracting. 

Crowley placed the chicken pieces on a separate plate and added the vegetables with some soy sauce into the pan, which was on the lowest possible setting to make sure these didn't burn too. He made his way to the different stations making sure that everyone was able to follow his directions and create their own dishes.

Aziraphale was at the back station, talking to Jaime about something and the sound of laughter echoed through the class. In the early stages of their relationship, shortly after Aziraphale rejected Jaime’s interest, Crowley would have to stamp down his jealous instincts. Even though he was still struck with the urge from time to time to throw an arm around Aziraphale when he was in conversation with Jaime just to be protective, he resisted it. It was a hard instinct to resist after the weeks of watching this man flirt with Aziraphale, under the pretense that he only wanted to help during class. But again, they were able to work through this in the past few months.

Aziraphale had shown that he cared for Crowley. 

Every date they had, every day they spent together, every present bought for no reason, text message sent just to say ‘good morning’ or to talk about something that just reminded Aziraphale of Crowley, showed how much he was absolutely in love with Crowley. And, everyday, Crowley tried his best to show it back.

“I know, I know.” Crowley was able to hear Jaime sigh as he got closer to the station. “I’m just nervous, is all.”

“Well, it’s natural to feel that way.” Aziraphale was a literal angel. It didn’t matter who needed help or comforting, he was always there.

“What’s going on then?” Crowley’s curiosity was piqued and he made his way to the station.

“I’ve signed up for a dating app.” Jaime answered and pointed at the phone in Aziraphale’s hand. “It’s been a while, but I wanted to try and get out there again. I was just getting Aziraphale’s opinion on something.” 

“Careful when you give technology to Aziraphale, did I ever tell you he managed to delete all my photos when I showed him a video on youtube. Still not sure how he managed that.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale swatted his arm playfully. “You said they were all stored elsewhere.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it angel. Just like messing with you. Now what opinion are you supposed to give?”

“Oh, um.” Jaime smiled sheepishly. “I was letting him look at some of the profiles to see which one I should try and message.”

Crowley looked over Aziraphale’s shoulder at the pictures of a few different men on the screen.

“I’d go with the second one.” Crowley said after a moment.

Jaime took back the phone and looked at the pictures. “Really?”

“Yeah, he’s got a bowtie. Always pick a guy in a bowtie.” He nudged Aziraphale slightly with a smile and was rewarded with a look of such adoration that Crowley was convinced he was going to overdose on serotonin.

The class came to a close not long after that. Once the room was cleaned and the participants gone, Aziraphale and Crowley left together, as usual, and headed to the bookshop.

Even though Crowley had work in the morning, he still chose to spend the night at Aziraphale’s whenever possible. They didn’t go to Crowley’s flat too often only because there was something that felt so homey about the bookshop, and the disorganized flat that was tucked away upstairs. As a result, most days, they would end up in there, open a bottle or two of wine, and talk as late as possible before falling asleep wrapped up in each other. 

“I’m not sure why today was so tiring.” Aziraphale yawned as he locked up the shop. “Honestly, I don’t even think I’d be able to read anything tonight.”

That had become a little ritual of theirs. Whenever they would crawl into bed, Aziraphale would read a chapter or two of a book while Crowley’s head rested in his lap. Aziraphale would absentmindedly run his fingers through Crowley’s hair and lull him to sleep. 

“I’ve got an idea.” Crowley extended his hand, Aziraphale looked at him with the barest hint of suspicion. “Come on.”

He must have contemplated what Crowley was up to since there was a pause, but ultimately he gave in and entwined their hands together and Crowley led him to the bedroom. While he let Aziraphale change into his sleeping clothes, Crowley changed into his own and settled onto the bed against the headboard.

There was a pleasant warmth that spread through his chest as he placed his sunglasses on the nightstand. They looked as if they belonged there, sitting next to the worn out copy of Treasure Island, in the space that Aziraphale cleared just for him.

When Aziraphale finally managed to return, wrapped in a warm set of tartan pajamas that were equal parts ridiculous and adorable, Crowley felt his breath catch. He watched Aziraphale’s face soften in a pleasant smile upon seeing Crowley already at home on the bed. That warm feeling spread and intensified, as if Crowley had swallowed embers which flooded through him and beckoned for Aziraphale to come close and bask in the heat. Crowley didn’t know why this feeling overwhelmed him so suddenly in the middle of such an ordinary night, but he knew what it meant.

He was falling even more in love with Aziraphale. 

Almost from the beginning of their relationship, Crowley knew how much he was in love with Aziraphale and how much he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with his man. But it seemed everyday was a new realization of just how head of heels he was, there was nothing in this world that could make him feel anything but love for Aziraphale. It seemed that every idle fantasy he had about spending his life, and possibly even one day starting a family, with Aziraphale was becoming more and more of a reality. Honestly it should have scared Crowley, but it didn’t. It just felt right. 

Like the last puzzle piece falling to place.

“C’mere angel.” He pulled Aziraphale close and helped him lean back against him, hoping he could feel the warmth of that fire in his chest. Crowley settled the blankets over them and wrapped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist. “If you are too tired to read, then I’ll read to you. After all, I did promise.”

“My dear,” Aziraphale turned his head just enough to kiss Crowley thoroughly. “You are so wonderful.”

“Yes, well. Don’t lay on the complements too much. I’m only now realising I didn’t actually grab a book to read.”

Aziraphale chuckled lightly. “Would you like me to go get one?”

“No,” Crowley wrapped his arms tighter. “‘S too comfy for you to leave. I guess I’ll just have to make something up.” 

“You really don’t need to.” 

“If you can write your own story for me, then I’m sure I can come up with something for you.” 

He took a moment to just embrace Aziraphale, taking in his scent of old books that always seemed to surround him and the flowery scent of his shampoo. The gentle pressure of him leaning against Crowley’s chest was a grounding presence that helped him think clearly. The story he wanted to craft should communicate how much cared for Aziraphale, how he would go to the ends of the Earth to help support his angel. There was a little trickle of an idea in the back of his mind, so Crowley decided to tell his own love story.

“It starts, as it will end, with a garden. In this case, the Garden of Eden. And with an apple.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so ends our story. Thank you to those who have been following since the beginning as well as those who joined along the way. All the love and support means so much to me and I hope you liked this story as much as I do. I do have a few other GO fics in the works (I'm hoping to finish one over NaNo this year but we'll see what happens). If not feel free to check out some of my other stories, I am a slow writer so there is not much but maybe you'll find something else you'd enjoy. 
> 
> Again, Thank you all!

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to bug me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/wickedwriter) if you want to


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